Masochist

OMG, OMG, OMG.

I just signed up for the LA Half Marathon in October. 

Le hubby had signed up for it a while back, but I didn't take the plunge until today. Seemed like a good idea ten minutes ago but now, I'm kinda thinking, "Holy crap! What have I gotten myself into?" Husband is totally going to have to wheelbarrow me to the end. 

Was peer-pressured into it by my Crossfit* cult - er, friends. I meant friends. I go running with them once a week around Silverlake Reservoir. They smothered me with kindness, pointed out that I'd get a medal if I finish up my 13 miles, and even promised me a spa treatment should I survive. 

I'm such a sucker.

Let the training begin.

* Why yes, folks... mushy lil' Debra is a member of Crossfit Ganbatte. I failed to mention on this blog that a little over 2 months ago, I joined Crossfit as an extreme means of addressing my post-baby-sedentary state. Honestly? I feel like overworked poo during my WODs (work outs of the day), but feel better-than-new after a nice long shower. As painful as the work outs are, I highly-recommend Crossfit. The coaches are encouraging - as are the other gym goers. And girls, don't worry. You won't leave the gym looking like an extra from the movie, 300. I used to live in constant fear that I'd end up looking like a midget Arnold (Schwarzenegger), but I've yet to become a hard chunk...