Quads, meet DOMS. DOMS, meet my quads.

Okay, I love my darling friend who moved in with his BF yesterday, and I owe him so much that I'd move his stuff anywhere on my back, but oh how I wish he hadn't got the keys to the new place until next week. Because going up and down two flights of stairs on one end of the move, then up and down THREE flights of stairs on the other end (and, because I was kind of showing off, running up and down those flights of stairs when the stuff I was hauling wasn't too heavy), the day before a 5K when I was trying out-- as much as I could-- my new stride configuration? This was not smart.

Oh, my quads. Oh, my aching quads. Oh, my aching other muscles in my legs which I do not know the names of. I had a frightening moment when I was stretching before the race when one of the funny muscles up near the very tops of my legs sort of buckled on me-- a "oh no, we're not leaning over that way today, no thank you" moment. They seem okay nonetheless.

I've decided something. Yesterday I was the only girl helping on the move and so I was the one hauling the little things, even though none of the guys ever see the inside of a gym. And you know... dammit, I'm tired of that. I'm tired of not having a strong enough grip and enough upper body strength to be the moving-day equal of an average gymless guy. I'm getting faster and more flexible; now it's time to really start looking into how to get strong.

I don't think I can afford an actual gym membership. Okay, let me rephrase that: I can't afford my dream gym membership, in which I would get access to the amazing unbelievable gorgeous phenomenal gym that's directly next door to our office building. Or rather, I could, if I pinched, afford membership there, but there are a lot of summer things that are coming up that I want to do-- kayaking, swimming, more races, and possibly some martial arts classes. Can't afford that and the fantastic gym. Dammit. Maybe this winter, since (thank God) it's a month-to-month membership, and that would mean I could try some climbing classes and other random cool things to keep me interested during the long dark cold months.

In the meantime, though, that means that any strength training I do is gonna be on my own, at home. Oh boy. Here's hoping that actually keeping track of my sets and which dumbbells I'm using will help. Here's also hoping that I will not be laughed off the internet for not knowing what the hell I'm going. (Seriously, I'm not being a dumbass on purpose; any guidance would be deeply appreciated.)

I got hit with another wave of "oh GOD I wish I had running buddies" today during the race. Because, damn, I was bored. No music (the reason I am considering an iPod Shuffle is because right now I've got nothin' at all), no buddy, and I'm well acquainted with the route; I was reduced to listening to the two women nearest to me chatting about equity rates. My brain gets tired a lot faster than my body does, I've noticed; while my body can keep chugging away, my brain gets tired of doing the same ol', same ol', and starts to make up fake aches and pains and exhaustion just to entertain itself. Distraction will be key for the next race; if I can get myself a badassed soundtrack for the race, I might well get up to an eight-minute mile. (One out of three, maybe. For starters.)

I went into that race in a bad way, though. I woke up this morning in the middle of a nightmare in which I was wrong about everything and continually shamed in front of everyone else. Not a good dream-hangover to have when it's race time; I always feel vaguely like a poser when I'm waiting to run, like I'm inches away from being exposed as a fake, like the second I start moving I'll turn back into a pumpkin-- or, rather, back into the fat unathletic girl who never ran a step in her life. That girl isn't far under the surface, then; hell, I think the reason I run these races is for that moment, so I can summon her up, grab her shoulders, force her to look at what's happening, and say See? This is what we are now, this is what we do-- we run, we race, so will you please catch up and get with the program and join me in the present? Will you please stop making me feel fat and ashamed and inferior? Dammit, look at this! Look at what we can do!

It doesn't take, but it does make the spectre fade for a while. Buys me a little time. I keep thinking that maybe one of these times it'll be enough, and I'll be able to relax-- to just be the new me without worrying all the time about the whole thing unravelling. It won't happen, I know, but I can't help trying anyway.

Gotta find a race for May.