I recognize that I am in my prime but dang it if my body doesn't vehemently hate me right now!
I got back from running yesterday and proceeded to have this texting conversation with Jacob. Mind you this was after THREE MILES. THREE. ONLY THREE. Ten minutes into my run I had to take a minute to walk and passed this crazy lady on the sidewalk who proceeded to talk to me, with one hand in her armpit, the other tucked in her pants. She asked me how long I had been running and guessed an hour (an hour!), and as I was panting and trying to keep my legs under me I realized how terribly pathetic I must be that after TEN MINUTES I looked like I had been running for hours.
I lied. And I told her about a half hour, because, well, it was better than ten minutes.
I finally made it home and as I lay on our hallway floor directly under the swamp cooler, half dead, decided to try to get some sympathy from a dear friend. I failed. But did manage some internal hysteria.
Conversation:
"Me: it took me 40 minutes to run 3 miles today :(
Jacob: you are tired. Let's work on your form.
Me: my knees hurt. it didn't use to be this hard!!!
Jacob: they are not the bees. hot bath
Me: ugh that's the last thing i want to do right now. it's ROASTING outside.
Some moments later...
Me: I don't know why I'm listening to you. But here I am sitting in our twice-scrubbed-yet-still-filthy-tub, pretty sure I just flashed our male neighbors through the open window, wondering what I ever did to you to deserve this.
Jacob: are you talking to your knees?
Me: no i was talking to you.
I WAS BEING A LITTLE DRAMATIC."
I don't think he quite got the fact that I needed sympathy. Though it will be nice to have someone help me with my form. My 26 going on 76 year old knees need some help.
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