Is it bad that 0 degrees no longer troubles me? I think so.
This morning, I had all intentions of getting up for my leisurely seven-mile run, but it just didn't happen. First, the boyfriend had to get up at the [butt-] crack of dawn to get ready to teach his 8am discussion section. Being the sweet girlfriend that I am, I got up with him and made his peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. Actually, that's not entirely true. As I mentioned in my last post, I have an unhealthy tendency to snack on plain peanut butter. Oh, look at how tricky I am! My sandwich-making has an ulterior motive.
After lazing around the apartment for awhile, I decided that I was going to do some core work on my own and then run in the afternoon. As I was bemoaning the unfortunate state of my non-existent abs, I noticed that little bits of stuff were getting stuck to my legs and shorts. Having stale rice-cake crumbs on my bum galvanized me into action, and I spent the rest of the morning (and most of the afternoon) cleaning the apartment.
For lunch, I met Stephanie, a friend and Ph.D. student in the Physics department, at a fake Greek place named Zorba's. Since I was still under the assumption that I would run later in the afternoon, I walked into Zorba's determined to abstain from heavy and/or fried food. (Freudian slip--I totally just wrote that as "friend food.") When it was my turn to order, I asked for a black bean burger on a pita. Then the order-taker threw a monkey wrench in my plans and said, "Do you want any sides? A drink? Fries?"
"No fries!" I thought to myself, "Crap! Think quick! Pick something so you don't look like an idiot!"
I'm not entirely sure why the words "No, thank you!" eluded me at that precise moment. As my eyes raced frantically over the laminated menu, I blurted out the first thing that I saw:
"UM! MAY I HAVE HUMMUS AND PITA?"
...which, ladies and gentlemen, is how I ended up with a lunch that looked like this:
Hello, white bread!
By the time I got home and got all my cleaning and errand-running done, it was 5pm. At this point, the temperature was a refreshing 14 degrees (with no wind chill). I got ready in all my running gear and then promptly had a temper tantrum when my Garmin spent 10 minutes trying to find the satellite signal. No joke, I burst into tears of hot, hot frustration.
Fortunately, the issue resolved itself, and I literally sprinted out the door, whereupon my tears froze to my face. Miraculously, the run went pretty well. Unfortunately, it got dark quickly, and I was left running around the south end of campus (near the athletic facilities and cow pastures) where there was still plenty of snow and not many lights. At one point, I got spooked looking at the frozen playing fields and thought to myself: This must be what Siberia looks and feels like! Then I remembered that I'm hardcore for running in the cold and felt better. By the time I got back, I felt so satisfied with my running that I almost forgot about the temper tantrum. This leads me to the conclusion
Without running, I'd be a super-unpleasant person.
Overall, I ran 7.22 miles at 10:04 pace, which is fine considering the cold and snow/ice on the ground. I'm quite pleased that despite my earlier procrastination, I got out and accomplished one of my two daily goals.
By the time I got back, it was well under 10 degrees. What does a post-run face in sub-10 degrees look like? Like this:
In regards to Goal #2 (Snack less), I did better...sort of. I ate a lot of Craisins, but I dumped the rest of the broken tortilla chips in the trash. Then I made sure that they were covered with garbage, just in case I had some urge to eat them out of the trashcan.
To make up for the pita-fest that was my lunch, I made a really tasty stir-fry tonight with kim chi, spinach, tofu, and scallions plus a sweet potato on the side. Sorry, the picture looks icky.
On a random note--I just wanted to say that I really enjoy reading blogs that have lots of pictures of the authors and various aspects of their lives, hence why I post so many here. I hope you enjoy it and don't think I'm histrionic, mirror-kissing weirdo.
And Sarah--I totally ate Nutella straight from the jar when I was in Paris! I even tried to hide it on the top shelf of the cabinet. It didn't work. After my runs, I'd stand on a stool (in my sports bra), spooning Nutella into my mouth. Good thing it's expensive here, so I don't keep it in the apartment.