Burp Yasso

Last night I had a slight freak-out, which was prompted by an ice-cream sundae.

See, I have had a pretty nutso few weeks at work here with the AP test coming up the WEEK AFTER our Spring Break (awesome timing there. Yeah.) and frantically making a mad dash through the 1960s and 70s to hopefully get to the Election of 2000 and September 11, 2001. Considering we were just on WWII, you can imagine the pace we're flying at. It's seriously insane.

Then, a piece of one of my brown dress shoes broke off yesterday during class and I realized I do not have the time necessary right now to buy new ones. That will have to wait until I get at least an hour where I can go by myself to do a little shopping and also to replace the pilled-up, worn out clothes that have taken such a beating that I am still wearing. What Not To Wear would have a field day with me.

Then, last night after Matt returned a pair of Bug's too-big-soccer shoes to Dick's, he came home with my favorite Mitchell's sundae. It was very sweet. Except it was 9:30pm. And I was just about getting ready for bed. And I had one of the hardest workouts I'd ever attempted at 0500 the next morning.

But I felt bad. He knows I love ice cream. So I took a few bites. Just a few.

And then I started to lose my freakin' mind. I literally started hyperventilating and crying over a FEW BITES OF ICE CREAM. I couldn't believe I had eaten it. What, was I TRYING to make myself hurl the next morning? Really?! How could I have been so stupid?! The crying made me burp hot fudge burps, which in turn made me freak out even more.

Poor Matt just said he was sorry.

I knew this was my own fault and tried to relax. I think it was just the looming Yassos hanging over my head. I had to do them alone since Ana was stuck all week and the only time that would work for me would be to do them right after school or at 5am. I was hoping to convince Ana to meet me at the track at 5am, but she just couldn't. I checked with our track and lacrosse teams and sure enough, the track was all booked up until at least 8pm.

Ugh.

I didn't feel comfortable up at the track by myself at 5am since it's still dark until about 6:10 or so. So treadmill it was going to have to be. This also was messing with me because I felt like it wasn't "counting" if I didn't do these on a track. So I set the incline at 1% and vowed to really focus and make these count.

The plan was for "7 or 8." Well, when there's a higher number there then I feel like to take the smaller number is sorta selling out. So I went for the 8.

And lo and behold, a few bites of ice cream didn't completely do me in. All that wasted energy worrying, as usual, got me no where. In fact, I felt the strongest on these 8 at a 7:19 pace than I ever have. Ever. Even though these had a significant amount of recovery in between them, I still did 4 miles out of 8.75 at a 7:19 pace, which is good for the soul. And, worth mentioning, way faster than my current 5K PR pace.

(Perhaps this summer it's time to get a new 5K PR?)

I'm feeling better about the run this weekend. If I can get through this workout today and feel as good as I did, then I know I can get through this 18 with 9 at race pace. It's going to be tough, of course, but I feel like my body is kind of saying, "See? I told you so."

I just need to listen to it a bit more.

And perhaps to lay off the ice cream.