Running with my babies

Although I have been running, I have been in a bit of a rut with it.  It just hasn't felt right for a while.  I have also been fairly lax on my other workouts.  I am doing them, but not like in the past.  My enthusiasm has waned a bit.  Maybe not enthusiasm.  Desire?  Energy?  Whatever it is, it is causing a waning in my activity.  I say I will do it later, then later comes and it just never happened.  Then, of course, Thanksgiving was looming and I just figured that it was a waste to get all fired up about rekindling the workout fire and then eat myself into a coma on the big day.  Friday came and I decided enough is enough.  We did our typical hill run yesterday and it was horrible!  I mean, it was great being with my friends, but the hill almost killed me.  I found that I needed a stroller for my stomach and a backpack for my ass.  I was running and people thought I was exercising with twins.  They came up to me and were all like, "oogie, goo goo.  Look at the babies.  Can we see the babies?"  Then they looked in the stroller and gagged at the sight of my stomach, and when they looked in the backpack they literally threw up.  It was kind of embarrassing.  After a few miles, I decided to call my stomach baby Lards.  I like that it sounds Nordic.  Since my last name is Nourse, people think that I am descended from the Norse people anyway.  My stomach is Lards Nourse.  I just called my ass baby, Asspack.  Because it was in a backpack and I can't think of anything better right now.  Asspack Nourse.  I was running up hills with my little family unit, Lards and Asspack Nourse and I felt like I was going to throw up.  Too much food and I decided that is enough.  It is amazing what a bad diet can do in a short amount of time.  In all seriousness, I have put on weight and I can feel the effect it has on my my speed and endurance.  I think it has to do with not having something specific to train for.  I usually do need something to train for.  A raison d 'etre if you will.  In French, raison d'etre means raison eater and that has nothing to do with running, but I hear those words and it makes me mad.  Makes me want to sign up for a race.  So, some friends talked me into doing a 20 mile trail race in February.  It is billed as 20 miles, but everyone says it is 21.  That is the thing about trail runs.  You can't trust them.  I have been on a 10 mile trail run that turned out to be 13 miles.  Something about satellites and clouds and leaf cover and the devil, but in my case I usually get lost as well.  Not near death lost, but a 1/2 mile or so mosey off the right path lost.  It is a weird feeling when it hits you that there is no one around and you have to turn and find the right path.  Sometimes the path is just marked with a small ribbon.  Other times, they hire a really apathetic squirrel to point you the right way.  Squirrels do not have a pointy finger.  'Nuff said.  A half mile mistake, turns into an extra mile on the trail.  To sum up the situation, I am signed up for a 20 plus mile trail race in late February.  Not far off from the marathon that I said I would not do for a long time.  I plan on doing a somewhat formal training plan for this event and starting in the near future.  In between, I want to lose the weight I have gained and run a pr in the New Years Eve day 5k I run every year.  This is doable.  I have to make sure it is.  This is the event.  www.njtrailseries.com  The Febapple  20 miler.  Maybe I can convince Ed to come up for that.

I'm going to have to end this now, because little Lards and Asspack are due for their feeding.