Color me tortise.

Speed training today was well...less than speedy. I would've been able to keep up had my stripper stage injury from Saturday night not been acting up. And the funny part? There were 2 other gals with "stripper injuries"...from the same exact place on Saturday night...but for a different bachelorette party. Talk about randomly and hilariously awesome. Apparently one was the victim of some crazy hand stand move by the Vanilla Ice look alike...he managed to bruise her foot. How? I dunno. At least my problems came from an inanimate object (the stage). Perhaps we should go back and file a formal complaint?

At any rate...I was rather slow today. We started out with a 3/4 mile warm up run...which was okay. My left foot was screaming every time my foot struck the ground. Then we did "indian runs"...think high school track, running in a single file line, the person at the back of the line sprints to the front, so on and so forth. We had to do this 2 laps around Cricket Hill and the soccer fields. Again...I would've been fine, had my foot not been acting up. I set out with Margie, Taylor and a few other folks and about 2/3's of the way around I had to pull back. I eventually joined up with another group and finished off the first lap. Coach Joe told me to bail on the second loop...and that stripper stage injuries should not be taken lightly. Soooo...I did. But acted like the cheerleader for everyone else belting out the tune to the Rocky theme as they ran by. Someone has to keep 'em motivated, right?

So the final speed drill was a figure eight around the fields incorporating the hill. Which, when looking at it from afar, isn't really a big hill...nor is it a hill at all (think massive mound in the middle of no where...clearly it's out of place)...but when you have to make the trek up, it's certainly less than pleasant. So Margie and I (along with a guy whose name I can't remember) opt to walk around the hill (again, tortise speed, folks) and then run up the side of the big burly beast of a hill. Walking down the hill was a different story...my foot was hurting more...so again, I was sidelined by the coach. So while everyone else did around 4 miles today, I probably clocked in around 2.5ish. Brilliant. How's THAT supposed to help me?

Who woulda thought drunken dancing would lead to such disaster? But in the end, it's not so bad being a tortise. I mean...didn't the pokey lil' sucker win the race?


Editor's Note: I just noticed, every one of my paragraphs ends with a question!! What gives?!