Still love you, Saints

The Saints just lost, it's raining, and my man just left. All of those things suck.

I don't know what to do with myself so I guess I'll lie here and update. On Friday night, we ate Thai take-out and started The Three Burials of Melquiades Estrada. Mainly I was obsessed with The Bread that night, but more on that later.

On Saturday morning, we went out for breakfast and split banana pecan pancakes. We finished the movie, which was pretty good. Eventually we set out on our runs. He ran 8 miles in about 70 minutes, and I ran 10 miles in about two hours and forty minutes.

Without dwelling on how stupidly slow that is, all I can really say about it is that the first half was okay but that as I got through the last few miles, I was more miserable than I can remember being in quite some time while running or otherwise. I can't really explain the dark place that I went to, how much I hated running at that minute, how much I hated grey winter days, how I felt hot and cold at the same time but mostly cold, how I wondered why I was doing something that I loathed so completely and why I wanted to subject my body to something that caused every inch of it to hurt, especially my hips which felt like they were dislocating from the rest of me, etc. It was so hard, and I was so spaced out, and I really thought I was going to just fall over and black out several times. I don't even know how or why I didn't quit.

Obviously, based on my time, I almost slowed to a walk by the time I neared the end, but I never actually started walking, and for that I am very proud of myself. Because by God, I wanted to. I really don't know why the ten-mile run was so much more difficult than the 9-mile. I do not know. But after yesterday's run, I seriously thought, "I am done." Done with running, done with training, forget the half-marathon, the whole thing. Because I never, ever, ever, ever wanted to do that again. I'm still not sure that I do, but I guess I'll wait until next weekend and see.

We went to the library later that afternoon and checked out Shoot the Piano Player, which we started last night and I think we were going to finish today, but I guess we forgot. We went out to dinner last night, sharing some insanely good pull-apart bread slathered in garlic, olive oil, and parmesan cheese, and he had steak and I had seafood cannelloni. Then we headed out to a party where my brother was playing. It was heinously crowded and smoky, but it was still a good time, mostly because my brother was awesome and seemed to be having a great time. I love seeing all of the young girls and guys (young meaning in their 20s) singing along with his songs.

This morning we had coffee with my dad and then headed home to hunker down for the game. My sister is in the Philippines right now working on a school project which is a great opportunity I'm sure but is way too far away from me, clearly. Insanely, she got up at 4:00 this morning to watch the Saints game, which was ON IN MANILA. I'm so sure. We chatted a bit online and I'm sure she is very bummed right now along with the rest of the state. Ugh. Ugh ugh ugh. Well, the way I see it, they still had an amazing season, brought incredible happiness to their city, and can totally hold their heads high.

And as for the bread, it will probably just be easiest to direct you to the Flickr set chronicling the process. Start here. I'm off to feed my Saints sorrow by eating some right now.