Don't worry lambies, I'm still here. Things aren't totally in the shit hole over here. I've been trying to keep going with my normal everyday life, as fucked up as it sometimes can be, because it's all I've really got. So on Saturday I ran the Neon Run with my fellow dance mom and friend, Andrea.
And let me just say, we were the hottest Doodlebops there.
I borrowed my sister in law's bright pink socks, wore my neon laced running shoes, borrowed a giant purple and blue tutu from Connie and then snagged a blue wig from Andrea. Which didn't work super well with my ponytail but who cares. The fact you can see my actual hair adds to the whole "I'm a mess who can't dress herself" theme.
A couple of skinny bitches with leopard print leggings and lace neon leotards.
Next year? Oh next year it is ON.
Oh yes, so I got home around 1am and then had to get up at 7 am to get ready for another 5K. Which turned out to be a terrible idea. Back to back 5K's when you aren't a good runner, have no stamina for a 5K, and have almost no sleep and are slightly dehydrated?
I wanted to do it because it was literally a block from my house, it was the first annual, and it was a block party all raising money to feed the hungry in our town. I mean, even if I died- my $15 went to a good cause and as a bonus, maybe my organs could have been donated.
But then the guy at the turn around was so damn optimistic, so I figured screw it. I'm just walking this bitch. By mile 2 I really hated it and wanted to go home. Out of nowhere I got so overwhelmed about my mom, and my stress level in general, fed up with being chunky, and I was overly warm, so I started to cry. And there was turn around guy who clearly was waiting for me to hurry so he could pick up the barricades. But he kept telling me he'd follow me and that all I had to do was finish. Poor guy probably thought I was nuts.
By the time I turned and was on the last half mile I was just so mad at myself for sucking so bad and to be honest, I just wanted to shower and go to bed.