Of course it takes my much younger, much tech-savvier neighbor Karen R. to inspire me to write here again. Mostly because I just read her blog, on her computer, and not ery (ery, I mean VERY well-see?)due to the ergonomic keyboard. Karen's blog is called, um, Our Crazy Blessed Life, Welcome To It, something like that. If I knew how, I'd link it up. Maybe she'll teach me. OK, so I don't know nuthin' about typing on the HinterNets, but I RAN THE HALF-MARATHON on Saturday WITHOUT STOPPING or THROWING UP. Well, OK, I threw up a tiny bit, in my hands, but it was well after the finish and had nothing to do with the actual race. Maybe. Maybe the blood sugar drop after 17 Accelerade swigs, half a chocolate PowerAde Gu, and that godawful supercharged concoction in my caffeinated coffee at 5 a.m. After 2.5 non-consecutive hours of sleep. Also, it's possible the nausea was from an overdose of race-induced adrenaline, caused by cheering and hand-slapping of fans along 13.1 miles. WHAT A BLAST. Well worth the minor vomit.
So sorry I do not have photographic proof of same.
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Congratulations on the half-marathon! As someone who slugglishly has attempted running a mile each morning this week (my legs hate it. seriously. they've told me in no uncertain terms), I applaud your bravery.
And who hasn't puked a little in their hands after running???
I guess some people haven't in all honesty, but Lance Armstrong has probably come close.
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