I kind of loved intervals last night.

Who knew? I would've loved them more if not for some nagging pain in my right calf. I'm hoping it's nothing serious…I rested up so much after Newport because I wanted to get rid of these nagging pains. Why does the universe never listen?

Anyway, intervals = fun, at least when you aren't timing yourself or pushing so hard you melvin. I couldn’t find my watch last night, and the calf kept me from going balls-to-the-wall, so I had somewhat leisurely 4x1K intervals with 400m rest. I did ramp up my speed considerably during the intervals, and really wanted to stop at the end of the fourth one, but didn't kill myself. Again, I'm trying to enjoy my training more this go-round, not necessarily get faster or hit a time goal. I liked the intervals because I wasn't so focused on how long I'd been running (i.e. how soon can I stop). It broke up the monotony of a flat six mile run and actually made it enjoyable. Plus it was nice to run on the track, outside, in the sun. Happiness.

Today I took a free weights class at the gym during lunch. I LOVE and ADORE and HATE this class. Like a lot of women I feel self-conscious using the free weight area on my own because it's full of grunting, sweaty guys making odd faces and checking themselves out. (And what is with those sleeveless shirts where the arms holes sag down to their belly button? Flank cleavage, not so great actually.) This class is held in the group exercise room separate from the weight floor and run by this tiny woman who must have about 2 percent body fat. She pushes and pushes and pushes until we're all trembling and broken and full of hate. It's awesome. I would never on my own find the motivation to work so hard.