Running & misc.
Week six of running training consisted of only two runs. (Sigh.) But onward I go. The second run was meant to be a 5K race, but considering that it was dumping freezing precipitation, I opted to stay home. It would have been hardcore and all, but there's something to be said, I think, for staying well. My third (really second) was a sixty-minute run on the first day of decent weather around here in days & days. The sun was out, and it felt like a miracle. I bundled up but had removed my jacket and hat and gloves by the end. My pace was just under 11-minute miles on the average, and I made it 5.47 miles. Not as fast or far as I would have liked, but I honestly had to give myself a talking-to during the run. I kept feeling very bothered that I am not (and might not ever be) as fast as some of my running pals but I just tried to tell myself that I'm not competing with them and I'm only competing against myself to try to get better. Which I have. So I tried to take some pride in that instead of lamenting that I'm not super speedy. All in all, it was an utterly gorgeous day & an utterly gorgeous run. New shoe report: My shins felt surprisingly okay during and after the run, but for the first time, as soon as I slowed down to do my walking cool-down, my knees ached like crazy. Not sure it was the shoes or the three previous days of squatting and lunging like a lunatic at boot camp. They feel okay today, thankfully. I've never had knee problems and don't want to start now! Best Running Song: I Gotta Feeling by the Black Eyed Peas, mostly because it made me think about this.
When I got home, I set about stringing up some Christmas lights, made difficult by the fact there were large piles of dog poop scattered about the front yard. I had a suspected culprit in mind as I've seen the same silver-haired man urging the same big black dog to "do his thing" in my yard not once but twice. The first time, I was too shocked to react. The second time, I heard him through the window, so I flung open the blinds and stared at him, meeting his eye, hoping that would discourage him from coming back. I was just telling my dad last night about this man, which of course thoroughly annoyed him in that protective dad ass-kicking kind of way. This morning, I woke up early but wasn't quite ready to leave the warm fuzzy cuddly cloud of bed, so I lay there finishing The Canning Season (lovely) and I heard him again! I peeked out slyly and saw him in my next-door neighbor's yard and as he made his way across her driveway to mine, standing smack in the middle of my yard in front of my window urging the dog to "do his thing," I snapped my blinds open, knocked loudly on the window, plastered a smile on my face, and shouted without really thinking, "Sir, can you please start cleaning up after your dog? I keep stepping in his poop! Thank you!" He jumped about a foot in the air, gave a little startled and apologetic wave, and dragged his dog away, looking horrified. I really did not want to be rude to an elder, but give me a break! I really wanted to throw my robe on and chase him down the street with my box of poop scooping bags and helpfully inform him that they're only $5 at Walmart, but it was cold and by then he was long gone. I feel strangely guilty for fussing at him, but I really tried to do it nicely, and those piles of poop are really big! What is so appealing about MY front yard? It's neat, trimmed, edged, mowed every week, and I had freshly strung Christmas lights shining in the morning sunlight! Does it really invite this same man over and over to not only allow but encourage his to dog poop in it? Of all the yards in all the world? And why in the actual middle of the actual yard and not the patch of grass between the street and sidewalk? Why all up in my grassy business, right by my freaking house? I just do not understand this.
Meanwhile, I've finished season one of Gavin and Stacey on DVD. It's a BBC comedy/drama, and season one is six half-hour episodes of hilarity and delight. I enjoyed it so much. I watched all the behind the scenes stuff, and as usual, they made me like something I already liked even more. So sweet, so naughty, so funny, so romantic, so real. I was eager to get season two, but it has no release date yet in the U.S. I am bummed about this and will console myself by trying to incorporate more Welsh slang into my vocabulary.
When I got home, I set about stringing up some Christmas lights, made difficult by the fact there were large piles of dog poop scattered about the front yard. I had a suspected culprit in mind as I've seen the same silver-haired man urging the same big black dog to "do his thing" in my yard not once but twice. The first time, I was too shocked to react. The second time, I heard him through the window, so I flung open the blinds and stared at him, meeting his eye, hoping that would discourage him from coming back. I was just telling my dad last night about this man, which of course thoroughly annoyed him in that protective dad ass-kicking kind of way. This morning, I woke up early but wasn't quite ready to leave the warm fuzzy cuddly cloud of bed, so I lay there finishing The Canning Season (lovely) and I heard him again! I peeked out slyly and saw him in my next-door neighbor's yard and as he made his way across her driveway to mine, standing smack in the middle of my yard in front of my window urging the dog to "do his thing," I snapped my blinds open, knocked loudly on the window, plastered a smile on my face, and shouted without really thinking, "Sir, can you please start cleaning up after your dog? I keep stepping in his poop! Thank you!" He jumped about a foot in the air, gave a little startled and apologetic wave, and dragged his dog away, looking horrified. I really did not want to be rude to an elder, but give me a break! I really wanted to throw my robe on and chase him down the street with my box of poop scooping bags and helpfully inform him that they're only $5 at Walmart, but it was cold and by then he was long gone. I feel strangely guilty for fussing at him, but I really tried to do it nicely, and those piles of poop are really big! What is so appealing about MY front yard? It's neat, trimmed, edged, mowed every week, and I had freshly strung Christmas lights shining in the morning sunlight! Does it really invite this same man over and over to not only allow but encourage his to dog poop in it? Of all the yards in all the world? And why in the actual middle of the actual yard and not the patch of grass between the street and sidewalk? Why all up in my grassy business, right by my freaking house? I just do not understand this.
Meanwhile, I've finished season one of Gavin and Stacey on DVD. It's a BBC comedy/drama, and season one is six half-hour episodes of hilarity and delight. I enjoyed it so much. I watched all the behind the scenes stuff, and as usual, they made me like something I already liked even more. So sweet, so naughty, so funny, so romantic, so real. I was eager to get season two, but it has no release date yet in the U.S. I am bummed about this and will console myself by trying to incorporate more Welsh slang into my vocabulary.
Labels: half-marathon training, running, TV
posted by eliza @ 8:47 AM
6 Comments:
I would be real annoyed too if a neighbor blithely let his dog poop in my yard, but that made me laugh really hard.
Do NOT feel guilty!! Cleaning up after your pet is part of being a pet owner and besides it's YOUR yard. You are in the right 100%.
ps-I am also training for this half. See you in NOLA!
Cristin: YAY!
Eliza,
Your knees might be aching because you ran in the cold. My knees ache too after I run, but only in the winter when it’s colder. Actually when they ache like that, I have grown to like it over the years, because I know that it means I got a good workout. It probably has something to do with lactic acid buildup in our knees and how it is affected by the colder temperatures.
Also, even if you’re running 10 or 11 minute miles, you are still a true runner, and you’re still running fast! Imagine that you were 80 years old, looking back on yourself right now. I’m sure you would consider yourself super speedy. Speed is all relative to your perspective. You ARE a fast runner!
Put out a little sign that says "Please pick up after your pets," and tie plastic garbage bags to it. I'd like to see if the old man ignores it or is shamed into picking up after the dog.
BB gun. Shoot the dog in the butt. It won't penetrate, but it will sting like the dickens. It'll make the dog think twice before using your yard again. Sadly the dog may be easier to train than it's human!
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