Anyone live near Myrtle Beach? I’ll meetcha at the starting line on October 21st!
I have officially tossed my hat in the ring for my first half-marathon. That’s right.
When I saw the date a couple months ago, I knew it was on like donkey kong. It holds a bit of meaning for me. More than a bit.
I spent a couple hours the other day plotting and planning my big ‘ole 20-week training plan. I’ve scoured the interwebz and found oodles and oodles of training plans, free and not so free. Some are far too speed-leaning for me. Others are much too slow. And still others cost 30 bucks for something I can do myself.
So. Yoga every day. Weights on Monday and Friday. Easy 5K on Tuesdays. Long run/walk 40/10 on Wednesdays (run 0.4 mile/walk 0.1 mile). Long run on Saturday. But I’m thinking of switching the long run to Friday since Saturday will be cutting in to my kayaking time.
The race opens with “knights” from Medieval Times on horseback with trumpets. Because Myrtle Beach really is that fucking cool.
Which is why we will become permanent residents of Horry County and the City of Myrtle Beach in approximately 18 months. And so begins our retirement party for the next forever.
Because we really are that awesome.
Ah! The big AC update! It has come to pass that our compressor is functioning properly, and all we need is an evaporator coil and several hundred dollars worth of freon…. all told $1768.40. It’s funny, though, the awkward looks you get when you don’t seem to consider it as much of an emergency as the repair guy thinks you should. They seem to feed off of the “do whatever you have to do, just fix my AC” attitude. I have a serious problem connecting the dots from air conditioning to emergency.
We’ll get it fixed when I fucking say so. It’s not enough of a necessity that I cannot take time to get another opinion. To consider my options. To ask someone else. To get it done on my timeline, not theirs. Because that is just the way shit works. You gotta problem with it? Take it up with my kids. They’ll beat you senseless and have you begging to kiss my ring in 5 minutes flat. They’s my posse, see.