Running is hard.

DUH.

I knew this. I've always known this. So WHY WHY WHY do I think that I should be able to hop on the trail and run like it's the only thing my chubby legs have ever wanted to do?!

Probably because I'm stupid.

I logged about 2 miles of walking/sprinting today... Mostly walking, with a little sprinting. I must admit that my new, fitted-to-me running shoes are pretty much awesome. Like, glitter and unicorn farts awesome. I don't get crippling cramps, my feet don't hurt, and so far... No knee pain! WHAT?! YES! No knee pain. That's a first.

However... I think my body is engineered wrong for running. Seriously, I do. I find myself thinking about what my feet and ankles are doing... And man, they do some weird shit when I run. My feet don't land right... I don't feel like my stride is normal at all. My feet strike the ground at a weird spot... Not really my heel, but not the arch either. Skip makes fun of the way I run on the regular... He's like, "You run loud." Thanks, dude. Appreciate the observation.

But yea. My feet an' junk... They just don't do what they're probably supposed to do. So I spend most of the time I'm walking/running/flailing trying to figure out WTF my feet are doing. And I try to focus on planting my feet "correctly"... Which feels weird, and probably hinders any kind of progress. But nothing feels right. I'm not a runner... I'm a wanna-be.

I've also decided that Gatorade is God's gift to me, and it makes my walks/runs more bearable. Seriously. I drank the stuff on the walk where I killed my phone, and it was like, the easiest most wonderful walk ever. Yeah, like, glitter and unicorn farts. So now I don't go without my Gatorade... And so far, every walk since that one as been amazing. Maybe it's just the clever marketing, but I seriously believe it. Although, I'd probably drink dog pee if someone told me it would turn me into an athlete. IJS.

Wedding planning is chugging along like the Little Engine That's Sucking Up My Money Could. I've got a phone consultation set up with the cupcake (!!!) baker, a tentative appointment with a dress shop to press my dress for cheap once I get down there, and a list of websites where I can order all kinds of stuff I need on the cheap. Cheers to that! I have about 18 more phone calls to make, and clearly I'm making good use of my time by blogging about it.

Procrastination at it's best.

Milo is doing well, besides having "rocks in his weiner", as Skip says. They're not actually in his weiner... They're in his bladder. If they move to the weiner, that's bad news bears. Anyways, he's a happy little pup, and is totally soaking up all the love and attention and extra crap he gets to eat because he's "sick." Which basically consists of various different things I can hide his antibiotics in, because the vet thought it would be a good idea to give him horse pills. They're enormous, and Milo likes to spit them out like a jerk.

Roxy is a little jealous, but seriously when is she not? I've promised her a "mommy-daughter day" on Tuesday while he's in surgery... We're going to get her nails clipped. She is going to flip her shit. Sorry, little lady. Your nails are 18 feet long, and I don't own a muzzle and a straight jacket to keep you from biting my face off. That's why I pay the groomer $15 to do it for me.

We're also gonna go get ice cream. Mostly because I want ice cream.

Okay, I really need to cut this off right now, and get something accomplished today. The house is a mess, I have people to call, and blogging isn't gonna get shit done.

PEACE.

--Malaya