So very tired

I promised myself I would CRANK out the work today, because I kinda need to, but my 12-mile run last night - the final "long run" before my half-marathon ten days from now - totally kicked my ass. My previous long run was 10 miles, so I was a little surprised yesterday when I ran out of gas after nine very pleasant miles. It just wasn't my day, I guess. That happens.

I spent the evening wimpering pathetically while my husband brought me food, took over the impossibly exhausting job of driving the tv remote, and made me repeat over and over "I did it! I did run 12 miles." And then I would commence with the whining: "But the last three miles were unbelievably, painfully miserable. I'm doing the bare minimum training plan, I won't be ready. I haven't trained on any hills, and Victoria isn't that flat. I can't do anything more to improve my fitness level in ten days. Wah wah WAH." He'd patiently listen, and then he'd make me repeat again: "I ran 12 miles."

The thought of adding one more mile to yesterday seems inconceivable, but Enrico keeps telling me, "DON'T think about that. If you think about that for ten more days you'll make yourself crazy. You'll do fine." He's such a good egg. Of course he's run a full marathon so this is bush league for him.

Tonight I have to get all dressed up and go to a fancy fundraiser, where I will dine with a very fun group of women. I hope I can stay awake and fully appreciate their charming company. I hope I can squeeze my aching feet into my black suede pumps.