I'm not sweating, I'm leaking awesomeness...

Between snow storms, ice closures, sick kids, and "too much salt on the road" (or some other utterly laughable reason to close school), getting the time and ability to write about wogging became just as difficult as performing said wog. However, that being said, I have wogged. Last week I logged several one milers, then a solid three miler, followed by and/or topped off by yesterday's magnificent five miler in which I, the slower than a turtle in molasses wogger, shaved 3.5 minutes off my last five mile time. Yay me! I was watching the British version of "Step Up," (yes, there was an apparent need to make a version of this across the pond), and had to keep myself from becoming one of the dancers in the movie in which I would start to let the rhythm move me and misstep. Had I actually not caught myself, it could have been both painful and hysterical. Alas, no harm no foul. There are less than three weeks from my big run, that's not much. My new qualm is not whether or not I'm ready. No, no. In fact, I recently learned a lady WALKED the entire 13.1 half marathon to finish it. I can do that! Heck yeah! I can mall walk my big ol' butt across that finish line like there's a shoe sale at the end! (Why am I so hung up on freaking shoes?!) Anyway, so my issue is a) registering, b) booking a hotel room, and c) figuring out my kids. Not figuring out their lives, their futures, their goals. No, I can't exactly run carrying them on my back. And the run is on a Sunday. So my conundrum is to figure out their plans before confirming mine. But it will work itself out. It always does. Normally. Usually. Somehow. So anyway. What I have learned about jogging/wogging/running is this: doing it daily (or as close to daily as possible) keeps the pain away. The more frequent the action is performed, the more the muscles are trained to perform in a certain way. The more they are trained, the more accustomed to the action they become. And the better you become. The faster you become. The better you become. Perhaps some of that "better" is a result of the fat melting away. Perhaps the pain is the fat crying, screaming as it vacates. Perhaps the sweat is the fat crying. Whatever. All I'm saying is, consistency works. So far. So good.