Why I'm not the best blogger.

Or: Why I suck at it.

When things are going well, I don't have a lot to write about. It's kind of like why phone conversations and visits with my parents are kept short. They freak out about things and make them into this histrionic drama nightmare and then all about them...and that's another story and a half...so I don't tell them anything, really. Everything is great. I stick to the good stuff, the cats, the weather. It's kind of sad but it saves me a lot of time and energy.

But that makes a boring writer, right? It makes a boring blog. At least for me, who will be the only person who is reading this.

And the truth is, things have been going reasonably well with my running. Two weeks ago I finally had my First Full Week of Running since  my appendectomy. My mileage still isn't up where it is and I'm not speedy but at least I had that. My body felt pretty good too, running-wise. I hadn't had any tweaks or twinges.

But I'm in this paradox, now. I can't write when things are good because there's nothing to say, and when things are bad, well...I'm not sure I want to post them on the internet.

I had a very nice "holiday" season.

I didn't run yesterday. Unplanned day off.

That may have been a mistake; running is my mood stabilizer, among other things, and I'm pretty down right now. I've had some other concerns that I'm not ready to blog about, and I'll only share them if they're good. At least for now. A blog about my training for Boston should be just that. Right?

I need to do more hills. I am woefully out of hill shape. I keep comparing myself to where I was last year. But this is probably a mistake. No, it definitely is. It was a year ago. And I fucked up my hamstring with 6 weeks to go last year. I don't want to compare to last year. The fact is that all I want to do is run this race and to run it like I've prepared for it. The past few marathons I've run To Be Faster. I'm having a hard time rearranging my expectations to be:

1. Don't get hurt before.
2. Don't get hurt before mile 26.2. Or after, really.
3. Train hard enough so that you don't fuck it all up, but not too hard that you...fuck it all up.

But who can help it?

Later. I'm not sure when, but...later.