You're Right. Fuck it.

Yesterday, I was so full of hope. Or maybe I was just full of shit. They're very similar -- hope and shit -- you know.

Nitmos, the grammatically challenged Xenia, Ironman by Thirty Kevin, and even Barefoot Josh exposed my plan to surpass 1,000 miles this year as pointless and improbable.

Instead, I should rest on my laurels, having nailed down PRs in the 5K, half marathon and marathon. I should realize that I'm not going to run more than 3.9 miles a day for the rest of the year. I should realize that I should continue to work on my form to get better next year.

I had an epiphany that it's not the year's final mileage that makes a difference, but rather the miles logged in training leading up to my goal races. However, I'm still trying figure out what all these confusing numbers mean.

My mileage the day before the Akron Marathon this year was 747. Surprisingly, the year before it was 787. My stats for September last year are actually better in every facet but the race results this year. Comparing August stats -- the peak month of my marathon training -- I still ran more miles in August 2009 than I did this year, but I logged a higher weekly total and faster average pace, bolstered by my half marathon PR.

So what did I do differently this year? My training paces suffered because instead of running fast on the track like last year, I was running hard on the trails. My weekly mileage peaked higher this year with two more 20-milers, but I also included additional weeks when I backed off to rest. I logged 9 percent of my miles barefoot prior to the race in the effort to strengthen my legs and improve my stride. Another factor might be the change in race scheduling with the Buckeye Half Marathon moved to the end of August this year instead of two weeks before the Akron Marathon like in all previous years.

Already my thoughts are percolating ideas for my training next year, when I'll be training for the 2011 Akron Marathon amid The Enthusiast-Viper Wedding Extravaganza. Our wedding is two weeks before the race. Next year will be my fifth consecutive time running the Akron Marathon, which would give me "legacy" status. Otherwise, I might have just said, "fuck it."

Flashback Friday: Getting a Jump on Laundry

My running clothes were in a bad way. The Enthusiast would scrunch up her nose at me and say, "Ew, you stink!" And this was before I went for a run.

So I have a tendency to rewear my running gear. But clearly, time had come to throw some quarters into the washer and clean my shorts ... and shirts and tights and socks and running underwear and, yes, I have special running underwear and wind pants and gloves.

Meanwhile, I had the urge to do something exercise-ish. So I decided to jump rope in the basement/washroom until it was time to put the clothes in the dryer.

After you push in the coin slot carriage to turn on the washer, the display reads "21." I thought this meant I would be jumping for 21 minutes. I had my stopwatch, but decided to use the washer as my timer. I can do 21 minutes of jumping rope.

About five minutes in when I had my first hiccup in jumping rhythm and snapped the vinyl jump rope against my calf, I looked at the washer to see how far the timer had ticked down. "21," it read.

Fuck.

Perhaps what the washer really meant was that I need to get started on Steve Stenzel's Twenty One workout. I looked at my watch and tried to calculate what time I started jumping. It was a little after 6 p.m.

Meanwhile, I could hear Dobson barking up a storm. I ran upstairs to see what was his malfunction. I settled him down, gave him a treat and ran back down to the washing machine. Now, the washer read "16."

OK, so maybe it does count down, but at odd intervals. I started jumping again. The washer read "14," then "13," then "10," then "9," then "9," still "9," it's stuck on "9" and my watch says 6:17. I decided I'd go until 6:25 if the washer didn't stop sooner. Of course, the washer didn't stop sooner.

I'm pretty sure I jumped for about 21 minutes. I have no idea how long that washer went. I had to go back upstairs to get ready for Dobson's obedience class. The washer stopped sometime before I got back down there to switch the laundry before we left for training.

Stupid washer. The good news is my running clothes are clean, and my jump-roping has gotten way better. I can do the two-foot jump, the running man jump and the one-foot jump. I'm awesome.

Back Talk
Wherein my readership two-ups me and undercuts my success.

Miss Zippy allows me some leeway with my Elevens workout, but goes right ahead and raises the bar: "We'll cut you some slack for the dog. I have made the 11s workout a part of the routine. Have done it for 2 weeks now and I definitely need to move the bar up--Josh and I discussed 13s, which is my goal next week. Can't really imagine ever making it to 21, can you?"

Answer: Crap! I'm falling behind in my own workout!

Meanwhile, Barefoot Josh has gotten even faster at kicking my ass at my own game: "I'm now at 4:08, with real sit-ups. I'm a machine."

Answer: Both you and Zippy are responsible for my new tag, jerks.

Happy Hour is nearly upon us, teammates. Have a finely brewed weekend. Run well and drink well. Cheers!