Yesterday, I finally found some motivation (around noon) to get my butt on the treadmill and run. I needed to go 8 miles to stay in shape for my half marathon September 16th. Even though I was running on a treadmill, it was still way too hot to run. Our apartment’s workout room isn’t air conditioned so it gets toasty. After 4 miles I need a quick break to gather myself, but I hopped back on and finished my run. It felt so good to get a long run in. I actually can’t think of a run I’ve ever regretted.
This morning I headed straight to the gym for a step class before mundane tasks (read: Facebook, blogs, Pinterest) could stop me. I did get to see my hubby – he walked in from work as I was heading out the door. Night shift is even worse than last week’s “swing shift”. I haven’t taken a step class since college and I like to think I am highly coordinated, but there were a few sequences that made me look like a complete spaz. What ever happened to just marching up and down on the step? If the instructor would have taken a few seconds to explain the sequence instead of just calling out moves as you were supposed to do them, I probably would have been okay. However, my brain and my body seemed to stay about a beat behind. Embarrassing. The Zumba class was starting just as step finished, which got me hoping to develop the courage to try it. I think I have my mom convinced to try it when she visits in a few weeks. Two southern ladies bustin’ out white girl moves in Yankeeland should be a real treat.
I’m sure if you had your ears open last night, you heard my squeals while taking Boomer on his walk. Boomer is a Brittany, a hunting breed. However, as a small pup, he didn’t show the same instincts that other Brittany’s show from an early age. Boomer comes from a long line of hunting and show dogs. This is the main reason the breeder (president of the American Brittany Association) wanted us to take Boom Boom since we had no interest in using him as a hunting dog. Basically he is the family outcast.
Our apartment complex has a bit of a frog problem. As in they are everywhere. Especially at night. We joke that Boomer is frog hunting on our evening walks since he always has his nose down. Last night, per usual, Boomer was nose down in the grass when I saw him appear to have something in his mouth. I pulled him away so we could continue our walk. I guess he went to readjust his grasp, but as soon as his mouth opened a frog jumped out and hopped for his life. Holy nasty batman! After getting back home, I forced him to drink a bowl of water and ran every time he tried to touch me with his nasty frog mouth.
I guess if you have a hunting breed dog, you should be prepared for innate hunting behaviors. All this time we thought he was the family dud. Just slap some camo and orange on Boomer and call him a pro.