ROHO wasn't the horrible, deadly workout I thought it was going to be. Basically the workout was 1600 meters at somewhere between tempo and race pace, a 2400 meter (1.5 miles) tempo, back on the track for a 1200 tempo/race, 2400 of tempo, and then an 800 meter tempo/race. It sounds like all different kinds of awful, but it turned out alright. So that means that ROHO didn't murder me, which I thought it was going to do. Unfortunately, my lower back/upper butt started to hurt during this. I haven't really told my coach, but I mentioned it in my running to win and he said he was reading it today, so he should be seeing it soon-ish.
I like food. In fact, I like food a lot. There are some days when I just never stop eating (like today, damn long runs). A lot of my friends liken me to a black hole. So you'd think I'd be able to handle myself during an eating contest, right?
Not as well as I'd like, I've learned.
After the ROHO workout, the team went to Olive Garden and a few people decided to have an eating contest. Apparently the record for the never-ending pasta bowl challenge from the team was 7.5 bowls, and 8 breadsticks. You have to eat one initial breadstick, and then one breadstick for each bowl to count. The sauce has to be different each time, also.
So I'm in this eating contest with only two other girls, and I pretty much destroy the first bowl because I'm so hungry, and the service was slow so we had to wait forever to get seated and served. Then the second bowl comes out, and I feel kind of satisfied, but most still really hungry. So I get a third bowl.
This just so happens to be where my stomach remembers it hasn't held anything for over 8 hours, and that sauce is really rich and not very good at all.
In short, I threw up in the middle of Olive Garden and pretended like nothing happened.
It wasn't a lot of vomit, and I have my doubts on if that was actually vomit and not just a burp that rocketed some food that had been stuck in my throat/mouth.
Anyways, technically got second place with only 2.5 bowls and 4 or 5 breadsticks, but throwing up inside the restaurant is against the rules so I should actually have been disqualified.
But whatever, I'm over it.
Really.
Anyways, that all happened on Friday. Saturday, in comparison was a lot quieter and a lot more boring.
I slept in, which is sort of the first since school started because every day I don't have and 8 am class, I have morning lift, Sundays are long run days, and I've had some team thing on every Saturday (meets, car wash, etc.), so I've been a bit lacking on the sleep department. The caffeine and coffee industries, however, have loved me.
A lot of Saturday was awkward, since one of my roommate's (I have three roommates) boyfriend had come up to spend the weekend, and we all knew they had been fighting recently, but didn't know if they had made up yet. (Spoiler alert: they had.)
Eventually they left though, and the rest of my roommates and I decided to go to the football game. Roommate 1 had invited a friend of her's and their roommates/friends to come with us and it was awkward.
So very, very awkward.
Eventually we get to the stadium, after standing around awkwardly silent at some sort tailgate thing that wasn't even a decent tailgate for about 15 minutes. But we're about 2 hours early, it's already freezing, and some of the guys we were with decided that we had to sit behind the field goal that had no protective net behind it.
Roommate B and I left a half an hour later, when the kicker started warming up and B got hit in the ribs with a football.
As we were warming up back at our house, B and I decided to go over the prank idea that our house has planned. One of our ideas (laxatives crushed up and hidden in food) is apparently lethal. So that's not happening. Instead, we decide to check if the guys actually lock their doors to make sure we can actually get into their house when we need to.
Fortunately for us, they leave their back door unlocked. So B and I walk around the down stairs of their house a bit, before we decide to head back. Of course, as we start to head for the door, we can see one of the boys walking towards their backdoor, with their girlfriend.
B and I start sprinting across the house, rip open the front door, and just keep on running in a dead out sprint. They weren't really paying attention as they walked over, so we think they didn't see us. But screaming to each other as we ran back probably didn't help us very much.
Oops.
Later, Roommate C and her boyfriend come back, and this is where I begin to figure they've made up because he makes them/all of us dinner. Which was delicious, even if it did involve pasta (Fettuccine Alfredo) I shouldn't probably be eating after the Olive Garden incident.
Ah, well. Haters gonna hate, and all of that.
Sunday mornings sort of really suck, because it's the weekend so I should rightfully be sleeping in, but instead I'm getting up a little bit before 7 am so I can go long run. It's also one of the days I don't get coffee until the afternoon, and breakfast consists of only a banana (so I don't get know for vomiting).
It's a really good thing that long runs are usually my favorite workouts, otherwise I'd be unbearable on Sundays. It doesn't hurt when the run goes by really fast, either. As in, 11 miles felt more like 5 miles. Weightlifting was not that nice to me.
What really made my Sunday, was that roommate C and her boyfriend made pancakes for all of us for breakfast/lunch. I had five. Seven if you count the two I just ate as a snack as I wrote this. They're really delicious.
So now I'm just sitting here as I procrastinate.
Excuse me while I dose myself with caffeine and go get sucked into Amazon.
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