I was looking forward to getting some running in this weekend, but the weather isn’t cooperating (Hard Rain).
After much dilly-dallying and watching rain drip down the windowpane (or according to Eminem, Window Pain...), I chose to do a LONG run on a treadmill.
I really enjoy 20 miles out in the fresh air with changing scenery and cool temperatures – but my gym is stuffy as hell (really, it’s gross, they don’t have A.C.), and the treadmill TV’s have less than 10 channels. On weekends those channels are mostly sports (bor.ing.)
When it comes to my NEW friend the treadmill, I typically choose to do speed work, and cut the run off at 1 hour max.
I ended up being a hamster on the wheel for….ugh. 22 miles.
(It was actually 21.6 miles—in 2 hours 49 minutes— and then I’m tacking on the 0.5 miles I ran from my home to the gym).
First hour: between 7.9 and 8.2 mph, 1.0 incline
Second hour: between 7.7 and 7.9 mph, 0.5 incline (I…started dragging…big time)
Last 40 minutes: between 7.3 and 7.6 mph, 0.0 incline (legs began to stiffen up).
I entertained myself by watching Kill Bill and some Cake Wars, with a touch of Obama air-bombing Libyan air forces.
Takeaway: I lose steam when I go out at a 7:30 pace. I have to try and restrain the urge to go out strong, even though it feels so good for the first 1.5 hours.
Also, even though it should be a confidence booster that I can do 22 miles without too much pain, I actually felt LESS confident after this run – because I left feeling like “Oh HELL NO I could NOT have run another 4.2 miles. Pure torture.”
week total: 55 milesMonday: none
I just watched the Bachelor finale yesterday night.
SPOILER ALERT for anyone who is planning on watching it on Hulu even later than me:
Brad proposes to Emily, aka Barbie Mother Theresa.
I think it’s pretty clear after spending 20+ hours watching the series this season, that Brad was not comfortable around Emily, that she is rather dull, but that quite simply she is the most perfect LOOKING woman ever to exist in accordance with societal expectations.
She’s got glowy, tan golden skin, big bright white straight teeth, shockingly gold long locks, 26-foot long skinny legs, skinny everything in fact, but a nice big rack.
|Not a fan of the bikini, but I'll take the rest|
|Blondest hair ever|
|I thought this date was the best she ever looked|
So he chose arm candy – knowing that for the rest of his life, people would admire his “wife” or be jealous of him, over picking someone who stimulates him emotionally, intellectually, and physically (let’s be honest here, Emily was a prude – and if you are ballsy enough to date someone on national television, you better be willing to seal the deal.)
And the result is, apparently Emily and Brad have been fighting constantly – brutal, claws out, walls down, fighting.
They are going to attempt to push through these “troubles” for love though.
RED ALERT! RED ALERT!
Here’s why I’m posting about this, because this fighting got me thinking.
Fighting this hard after just weeks of being engaged? That is a HORRIBLE sign of things to come.
The first YEAR of dating my boyfriend was 100% puppies and butterflies. I would have collapsed in tears and confusion if he expressed an angry emotion. It was just such a delicious, young love phase.
|This is like, 2 days before we officially began dating|
|First vacation together -- the Swiss Alps! OK, it was Disneyland.|
|The guy we asked to take a picture of us FORCED us to do crazy poses|
We probably didn’t have our first “fight” for well over a year, and over 6 months of living together (we moved in together after 7 months of serious dating). And I’m guessing it was one of those arguments where I hadn’t slept enough, and he told me to watch out for another car that was merging and I said “I KNOW, I SEE IT!” I get angry when I drive…
After 3.5 years together, we still have never YELLED yelled at each other, and I doubt we ever will. That’s just such a scary, useless way to communicate.
We hear the single father who lives below us yelling at his kids daily, and it serves as an excellent example of WHY NOT to yell at others – we hear the older brother verbally abusing the younger brother when they are home alone. I wonder where he learned this…
Instead, we say “I Love You” like, 678 times a day. Seriously, it’s gross. We say it when we wake up, when we leave for work, through texts all day, when we see each other in the evening, while eating dinner, and before bed.
So the point of this post is two-fold:
1) I’m curious how others communicate with their loved ones. Can fighting be an element of a truly stable relationship? Does anyone NEVER fight? And how do you fight?
2) Spread a little love. Don’t be afraid to say “I love you” too much. The sound of those words never, ever get old. And it’s so much better for everyone than fighting.
And since most of you are just my blog friends and I don’t LOVE YOU-love you, I’ll reserve this more casual phrase for you: