I'm an ass.

About a year and a half ago, my friend's husband was trying to qualify for Boston. Dude is seriously awesome. Like, Ironman awesome. Anyway, I ran a half the same day and watched the remainder of his race...my friends was tracking him on her phone. As we saw him come around the final stretch, we could see he was going to be close.

He missed it by 2 seconds. 2. There are sneezes that take longer than that. He was pissed. We were pissed for him.

Fast forward to a couple of weeks ago. Same friend and hubby and various other imaginary runner friends got together for dinner. Toward the end of the evening, friend's hubby and I got to chatting...about running in general, what our training has been lately, and what races we're thinking of doing this year. I blurt out, "I'm running Boston!." He excitedly asked me about qualifying. I felt like Ralphie when he blurted out fffffuuuuuuuuddddggggeeee. All I could think was "ah shit." I told him I didn't qualify. I got a charity bib. I called the next day to apologize.

Here I am training for Boston, and by no means deserve it. And there he is, who TOTALLY deserves it and isn't going. Yeah. I'm an ass. A lucky, undeserving ass. So anytime I don't feel like running, I think of Eric and how I owe it to him, and all the others who came so close. And I go run.

I'm not dead.

So, let's just say this whole moving to another state kicked my ass. I missed some workouts just from sheer exhaustion. I made 5, that's right 5 trips, between the old place and the new place in about 3 weeks. That's 4 hours each way, so yeah, some days I just didn't have it in me. However, I only missed 1, 13 mile long run and I've been otherwise right on track with those. Long runs, in the past, have been my nemesis. They still suck. But I'm doing them and feeling stronger with every one (Shut up Cohens - I know you told me so).

Let's see, Delta sucks ass. I tried to change my flight to leave from and return to Columbus instead of Louisville, but those fuckers wanted to charge me $180 to do that. Meanwhile, they've changed my flight times twice, without a single cent coming my way. Fuckers. I knew I should've booked Southwest.

My new job is teh awesome. I'm not ridiculously broke for the first time in I don't know when. I actually went shopping last weekend. Weird.

I'm now 60 days, 17 hours or something from the big day. It's flying by so fast, I can't believe it. Today, I received a link from Adam (the dude who got me into this mess) to work out my pacing so that I finish in 3:59:59. Included was the elevation information for Heartbreak Hill, which, despite the fact that it's, like, 20 miles in, does not look that bad. On paper.

So, yeah, pretty uneventful as far as the running front is concerned. I'm doing it. I'm not dead. I'm not injured. I'm still not convinced I can run sub-4, but whatevs.