Anyone who has known me for a long time or knows me well (I’m looking at you, parents, brother and boyfriend) knows that I get emotional and kind of overreact sometimes.
Moooooom you put my jeans in the dryer! Now they’re gonna be tight and I’ll have to lose 5 pounds to make up for it and I’M A FAT LARD!
I’m really a fun person to be around, I swear 😉
Case in point: this post.
That post was preceded by a 45 minute tear-filled breakdown where I told my saint of a boyfriend that the fact I didn’t run for nearly 3 weeks meant that I would never run the same again and everything was terrible and I was so out of shape and the world is cruel and horrible.
See what I mean?
Well in the past month, I’ve pretty much proven my former self wrong. Apparently when you’ve been running for 4 years, and running longer distances pretty consistently for over a year, 3 weeks isn’t that long of a break. (#humblebrag?) Don’t get me wrong- for the first few weeks it was really hard, and my pace was 30-40 seconds slower per mile than normal. But again, Russell the Saint came through and reminded me that if I got my mileage up, the pace would follow. And evidently, the guy was right. Continue reading