Tiny Blue Boxes

Ok, so no, it wasn't a training intensive weekend. I didn't do any sort of training walk at all, actually. I walked. I excercised. But 15 minutes at a time on the treadmill doesn't really count. Crunches... don't really count. The epic sparring match I got into on Saturday really didn't count. And the turtle paced jaunt through Boston... yeah, that certainly didn't count.

Apparently, my goal is to be in as much pain as humanly possible come the actual event. You know, to make it more of a challange.

I did get some tenting practice in though. I set up that tent I've had in my trunk for the past two years (I'm an impulse buyer... it was $6 at Target) at the cookout I went to Saturday night. And by "set up" I mean Stacey and I unrolled it, unzipped it, got in and propped it up with our feet. Jeff was the brain that figured out where the poles went and set up that bad boy in the dark. The three of us hung out in there for at least 3 hours until it got too cold and we abandoned Monsieur Tent for the warmth and comfort of the house. Then it... blew away but that's another story entirely. Point being: I hung out in a tent and it wasn't that bad.

Now I just need practice using a Port-O-Potty....

*shudder*