So, we're heading out for a hill workout tonight on Observatory Drive (read: We're heading out to die tonight on Observatory Drive). The hills on this road are intense. They were part of the Crazylegs course, and they'll be part of the Madison Marathon course, too. Of course they will be. Why not? Why not make everyone die? Exactly. Thank you, race organizers.

I'd like to think I've got one up on Madison, seeing as though San Francisco (barely) didn't kill me, but then again, I hate hills. They kill me dead every time. I can guarantee Crazylegs would've been faster had Observatory Drive not existed.

I went out for 10 miles last night, and while the first two-and-half-miles were pretty heinous, the rest went well. I feel good today, so at least that's a start (minus the blisters on my feet. They get me EVERY TIME). Ask for me at about, oh, 7 p.m., after several hill repeats, and I may have a few different words for you. Probably all four-lettered and guaranteed to make grandma cringe.

But Erin and I had a good bitch session this morning, about life in general, and I think we're both ready for a good ass-beating. I believe she said tonight's hills would be "therapeutic."

I, instead, will call them "sucky." (Big word for intelligent people, of course).

But I do think she mentioned something about pizza afterward. Food will get me every time. What's a little pain when you get to pig out afterward?

And, like Erin, I think I just realized why the scale does not succomb to my needs...

krittabug