I've been a bump for the most part all week (so much for my three times a week idea), but today I was determined to get out there. The Chou went down for her nap (we're sleep training with much success but that's another post), leaving me free to run sans stroller. I headed outside in the midst of a low-grade blizzard. The wind was howling, the snow blowing and the car was under at least six inches of snow, but that didn't even slow me down...until I tried to clean off the car before driving to the midwife's. I felt a snap and then a sharp prick in the shoulder. WTF? Sure enough, my sports bra strap had given way. I nearly burst into tears - it's bloody hard to find the time let alone the motivation to run IN A BLIZZARD - and there I was about to go, when the bra broke.
I went upstairs, lip trembling, defeated. The husband took one look at me and asked who died. "My bra broke," I said. "The world is conspiring against me to run! I'm never going to get fit. I'm never going to train! The world as I know it is ending!" (there may be a bit of editorializing going on here...)
I took off my shirt to survey the damage. That's when Mr. Wumpus started laughing. Turns out, my sports bra is very adjustable - the straps end in velcro, go through a metal guide and stick back onto themselves. I've owned this bra for two years and I had no idea. All that had happened was the end had come off and slipped through the guide, scratching me.
I'm so stupid.
Either way, I raced back downstairs, hopped in the car, and was running within 30 minutes.
And then we ran...the slowest I've probably ever ran. But you try running in slush/snow six (and more) inches deep, sliding the entire way. The wind was gale force, straight off the river, icy cold and unforgiving. We did 33 minutes and I won't tell you how dismally far we went, because it doesn't matter. We got a good workout in and I'm pumped for the week ahead. Go me!