A retraction, and more first world pain

You are free to ignore my previous post - Carnival came through and booked us on an alternate cruise, with an upgrade to our room! Vacation on! I can resume my fantasies during my runs about sipping pina coladas in the tropics. We celebrated by ordering chinese food and baking brownies, because, as Eric pointed out, our new cruise isn't until August (instead of June), so we have an extra two months to get in cruise shape.

I didn't want to muddy the issue of yesterday's rant by going off on another rant in the same post, but, believe it or not, I've experienced further first world pain this week. Actually, in the very same day. After the devastation of finding out our vacation was off, I pressed on, somehow. I taught children, did paperwork, sold running shoes, and hung clothing. Finally, about 9:30 pm, I thought I was going home. My car had other plans. 

Remember how we just freaking dropped a crap ton of money on slave labor to fix that thing? I'm guessing not, because seriously any time a blogger says "remember when....", I can pretty much guarantee that I don't remember, I have my own life to keep track of, and all. Well the car didn't remember either, and as I was about to enter Baltimore's lovely underwater tunnel, it stopped accelerating, and then just....stopped. By some miracle, it started again, and I entered through the tunnel, begging out loud like crazy for the car to make it to the other side. 

I made it, called my stepfather for advice, and barely got a word out before the whole damn car started banging and shaking, and stopped again. I traumatized him by keeping him on the phone for the first part of my panic attack, then hung up and blew up Eric's phone. Even though I knew he was in Krav Maga class and didn't have his phone on him, calling your husband over and over is an effective method of solving any problem. Finally I wised up and called AAA, but at this point I was sobbing so hysterically the person who answered could barely understand me. Have I mentioned I'm a good person to have around in the event of a crisis?

Anyway, long story short, Eric came down, the car was towed, and it can be fixed with a minimum amount of slave labor this time. And we had a delicious dinner of burgers and wings at midnight.

Somehow, I managed to fit some training in this week. It wasn't easy, because my schedule was jam packed with bitching, moaning, whining, and complaining on social media, but I did it.

Monday: I was supposed to do 5 miles at 8:15, but since I ran my 10k Saturday at a 7:39 pace, I gave myself a break and ran it at an 8:49 pace. On the treadmill. Because I was in the mood to watch The Hunger Games.

Tuesday: 30 minutes elliptical, 45 minute Body Sculpt class. My hips are ridiculously weak.

Wednesday: Jillian Michaels Boost Your Metabolism. My back is sore. So are my abs.

Thursday: 8 x 800 at 7:14 pace. Holy crap this was hard, even with wimping out on the treadmill again (I wanted to watch Buffy). I warmed up for just under 2 miles at 9:30, then started the fun stuff. The plan called for 1:30 rest intervals in between the fast parts, but once again, that would require all sorts of crazy unacceptable math.  I just did .2 rest intervals, varying between walking 15 minute miles and running 10 minute miles. After that torture I cooled down at 9:30-9:14 until I hit 8 miles. 

Posting without pictures of myself is unacceptable. Here's some really funny pictures of our last Carnival adventure. At least, they are funny to me, and that's what's important.

Pirate in Jamaica

Trying snail. Also I got my hair braided.

Eric's favorite part of our entire honeymoon.