vaseline. powerade. gu. $50 shorts that make your quadriceps work more efficiently and promise not creep up into the crotch every 3 shuffles. these are the proper nouns of the distance runner.
i have now run 4 half marathons, which equates to two full ones. of course collapsing at the 13 mile lactic threshold is a bit different to having to rinse and repeat my dehydrated self for another 13. i was, however, trained from a young age to stay on my feet for 5 and 6 hour stretches. 'return from overseas shopping trips to london in order to hit every single department store up and down oxford street, bond street, and tottenham court road' was the interval training my mother (and grandmother) subjected my brother and i to. of course he has reacted to this childhood workout regimen by becoming a rather sedentary adult. i am far too vain/insecure/obsessive, to not break a sweat every other day.
and this is why i am contemplating putting myself (and those nearest and dearest to me) through the physical pain of my own bleeding (and that of their ears) as i whine, bitch, moan and complain about: inside thigh chub rubbed raw and bloody, screaming muscles, blisters on the feet that look like bubble wrap, chafed nipples, lactic threshold, and salty white streaks on overpriced technical fabric that "wicks". pro's to consider: all you can eat ben and jerry's for at least 2 weeks.
it requires a committment.
i hope i get the black toenails.