My Life When "Resting": A Photo Diary

When you last heard from me I was finishing up IM Lake Placid in fine style, with a smile, a shuffle, and a UTI.

Here I am, just lifting those knees, sprinting away. Oh happy day! Well, actually, it was a happy day. Especially when it was over.

So, what have I been doing in celebration of successfully conquering my IM debut?

The REST.
I am writing about The Rest in retrospect because it ended today. Thank God for this. I was well on my way to degenerating into full sloth-dom. Lest you think I'm kidding--let me just say that I managed to gain 6 pounds in two weeks. That's like a record for me. I am a competitive athlete, but I am also a competitive rester. No one rests (read eats and sits on her ass) like me.

Rather than detail the last two weeks, which, I fear, would bore you to tears, I will leave you with a few photos. We spent last week on Cape Cod. It's a beautiful place--and a perfect venue for sitting on one's ass.

This is not a flattering picture, but it does capture nicely the week's activities--going to the beach, sitting, eating.











Ice Cream was another theme of the week.























I also watched everyone else run, from the safe confines of my beach chair.




























I watched Andy run a 5.2 mile road race (The Brewster Brew Run).
He made running sub-six minute miles look easy, which I find very hot. I am very much a sucker for fast, in-shape men.
He was 3rd AG in a race with more than 1600 competitors.


I also watched from my perch as my family swam, collected seashells, rode motorcycles and rested.






























I admit it, though, I did get in one little ride.
This is sunrise in Chatham, taken from astride Mrs. Z.
It was a lovely week.
And now I am home.
Today I went for a run in the 95 degree heat and humidity. It was ugly. I was sweaty and disgusting 2 minutes into the run.
However, I will say that although I felt disgusting and was moving a bit like an overweight slug, I got some serious attention today.
It was hot and I wore just a bra and hot shorts. I never do this. But it was HOT, so off the shirt went. I am an old lady, and my thought, I believe, was who gives a fuck. I did not realize that just wearing a bra and little shorts is the key to receiving catcalls, however. Now I know.
A group of construction workers paving the road stopped, watched me run by, and then began applauding. I kid you not. I wanted to stop and say thank you--that really there's nothing better than that when you are 39 and have three kids and the stretch marks to prove it.
Later in my run I passed some guys doing lawn work and one of the men stopped as I ran by. He waited until I was in front of him and then said in a loud, deep voice-- Thank you-- and tipped his baseball cap.

Jesus. Am I hot or what?
The correct response, by the way, is YES, of course you are. :)