During the week, marathon training is awesome. You have "easy" days and cross-training days, and your daily runs aren't too terribly far. You're not too tired, and yet you still get to post things on Facebook about how you're training for a marathon and then get on Pinterest and pin tips about how to carbo-load.
Oh, and I ordered a cute shirt, which I immediately photographed and posted on Facebook. In fact, it is now my profile picture:
|In case anyone on Facebook forgot I'm training for a marathon, I can subtly remind them.|
Most of my runs during the week are on the treadmill in the air conditioning, and I get to watch DVDs of Blue Bloods. This is the best dang show on television, not because of the writing or acting, but because it has what no other show has: Donnie Wahlberg. In a suit. Running.
|Run with me, Karen. Run with me.|
So the weekdays are all happy and filled with cute shirts and Donnie running, and then the weekend comes. Then it's time to drag myself out of bed at the crack of dawn and run 12 miles in the heat while trying not to throw up, and suddenly the happy week is gone, and I'm all, "MOTHER PUS BUCKET!"