TITLE NOTE: Once upon a summer 2009 ”Fireflies” was the free i-Tunes download of the week, and I fell in love with Owl City. Owl City = Adam Young. He plays keyboards, piano, guitar, bass guitar, synthesizer, drums, vibraphone, and the accordion. Oh, and he writes his own stuff. And sings. And seems to be THE nicest, cheeriest guy on the planet, so I forgive him for his emo/hipster/whatever hair and tight pants. Today’s title comes from Rainbow Veins.
Tomorrow is officially the last day of school. In case you are a new internet stalker slash complete and total stranger, I make my
millions dozens teaching high school French in the 37th best small city in the nation, according to CNN. I’m finishing up year nine of my career, and for various reasons (in and outside of my control) this was quite possibly the most stressful school year of them all (except year one; year one always makes you cry…every day…for reals). I’m ready to close school on Monday, shut the door to room A216, and melt the stress away with a good three months of beach living. Oh yeah…remember my super sweet summer gig? I’ll be back at it in FIVE DAYS – giving jet ski rides, tubing, paddle boarding, knocking children off of kayaks, swamping canoes, scouring the beach for red sea glass, playing capture the flag, and judging sand castle contests. Do you hate me yet? (;
Not only has the end of this school year been cray-zee, I’ve added to the insanity by stepping up my sweaty game. Today and yesterday were double workout days, with 6M+boxing and 6M+soccer, respectively. Soccer, by the way, is turning out to be way more dangerous than boxing. Not only did I re-break one of my ribs two weeks ago with a carelessly (yet non-maliciously) thrown elbow, tonight I got rolled big time by a shower bag with a shoving problem. I’ve been promised a ninja-style, sneaky tripping/pushing lesson Monday at boxing so next time I won’t be the one on the ground. Monday at GriffonRawl I am also going to try to advance one of my June goals: pull ups. I can’t do any. Not even one. Lately we’ve been doing ridiculously tiring partner drills (we’re talking like 12-punch combos), and my shoulders are in a constant state of ouch. I’m sure it’s the whole tearing/repairing process required for building muscles, and I’m confident that after a weekend of rest (read: running only), they will be sufficiently manly to pull off at least ONE pull up Monday night. [crosses fingers]
In recent running news, speed and distance have been waging a civil war in my brain. Even with the Buckeye Trail 50K only five weeks away and my Sauconys firmly rooted in the single tracks at North Chagrin, I find myself peeking ahead to fall marathon training – track workouts and roads and tempo runs and new pink Adizero Bostons and MGP and BQ and
FROYO YOLO. Running a 5K last weekend didn’t help, and neither will my attempt to sub 1:20 the Towpath 10 Miler next weekend. I find myself wanting to go faster but my training plan is telling me to go longer. I want to do it all. Run fast and far. Box. Play soccer. Do pull ups. Chaturanga. I want the goose that laid the golden egg. So in response to my sweaty greediness, my BT50K plan has turned into a hybrid pace/distance mess that overlaps my Wineglass training plan by four weeks. Because even though it will be summer (by my calendar) in five days, that doesn’t mean I will do less work.
A photo story of the last week…ish…