Shhh...Don't Tell Anyone

I touted my plans for running a 15 miler today.  "Ooh.  Whatcha trainin' for?" I was asked.  Ummm, nuthin.  In my end of the year wrap up, I mentioned a group of women who have been running together for a few months.  If I remember correctly, they couldn't fathom running a marathon.  Fast forward four months later, and they're all in.  We are now loosely following a marathon training plan.  Think of it as training for the training - proof of concept type stuff.  Sometime last week, I was notified that we'd be running 15 miles this Saturday (now today).  Shit.  Fifteen miles.  I haven't run 15 miles since the Philly Marathon (I think) and that was in November of 2012.  Crap.  Oh, well.  I won't be doing it alone.  

So, here I sit, at my kitchen table.  My beautiful Starbucks mermaid cup cradles the dark brew.  It's before 6 am.  Shhh, don't tell anyone.

We all met at the spot only to slip and glide our way to the trail.  At that moment, I received a phone call (originally thought to be a butt dial - cause who the fuck is calling at 5:25 am).  I managed the call - maintaining the innocence of others - while the group, quickly decided that this crap would be for the ducks.  We slid back to our cars to head back home with plans to meet up tomorrow.  I was immediately filled with excitement like a child on Christmas.

Wow.  There's so much I could do.  I mean, I'm up now, I can't go back to bed.  Coffee is in order.  I could start my next lesson for my health coach cert (you knew about that, right?) or I could start organizing whatever.  Everyone is still asleep; they might actually sleep for another two hours.

In reality, I figured I would just dick around on the Internet.