I have a pain in my bum.
I've done a better job tracking my pace since starting this Half-Mary training thing, and also thanks to my sister's handy excel document-tationing.
Today I ran a 6.38 pace up two hills.
And on Monday, when the pain started, I ran a 5.97 pace.
I was in a hurry because I had to do this:
When I left for my run she was already whining and begging. So I hurried back to walk her.
During our walk, we scared a hawk out of a tree.
Or, it thought my dog was a squirrel, and decided to attack.
I begged it not to eat my squirrel-dog and it flew away.
Then, I blew a rainbow out of my magic hands.
I'm a care bear.
This post totally makes sense.