My legs are sore. I keep saying I might be coming down with a virus or something (this gets me out of cooking dinner) but it could be they're just sore from running.
I've been running for the past 5 days in a row. That's Friday, Saturday, Sunday Monday and today, just so you know. I think that's a record.
The weather's better, and I got some new running clothes at Goodwill. Love that place! Apparently, there are quite a few Chubby Mommy Runners in Bend, because they gave away quite a few super good "active wear" items in my size. I got some Nike, Land's End, and Champion branded things. Hi-tech running fabric, and way cheaper than Costco.
Still, I think I should take a day off tomorrow, so I can rest my poor sore legs, who've been valiantly running hills. I'm proud of them, even though there is still one hill at the end that I just can't master yet. No one's fault, not placing blame (don't want my legs to hear anything negative, lest they go on strike) I'm just saying, I will be even more proud of my legs when I conquer that hill. Even though I'm super proud now...
I sort of hate to stop running, even for a day, because there's always that worry that I won't start again. It's just like taking that first bite of the seasonal Reese's product, but opposite. I haven't had a Reese's peanut butter cup since Christmas. I'm afraid if I eat one, I'll eat 9, then get sick.
I read that book called "French Women Don't Get Fat" where the author (who's French) says if American women would just take some little tastes of lovely food and be done, like the French do, we wouldn't get fat either.
If I take one day off from running, I might forget how nice it feels to run, and only remember how cold I am in the morning, and how nice it is to stay in my bed, or take a hot bath instead. Or eat several bites of lovely, lovely French food, then take a nap. That's the American thing to do.
Speaking of Reese's, I noticed the Reese's eggs are out already...I'd sort of forgotten Easter was coming. I mean, it's not even St. Patrick's day, right? Do they make Reese's Shamrocks? Why not? Some of my best friends are Irish, and they like chocolate.
Everything in moderation is the key to happiness, apparently. I'll tell my legs that, and hopefully they'll pass the information on to my tongue, and my teeth, and my stomach. We'll see how it goes.