It's Tracy's Fault. I Swear.

Retail therapy isn't much fun if you don't find what you're looking for. And I am looking for just ONE DAMN PAIR of running shorts that don't ride up and leave my poor, defenseless thighs to rub together and create some disturbing heat-rash-and-tiny-blisters-combination. Sexy, huh? OK, now please stop picturing that.

Let me back up here a moment, as a number of events have conspired recently leading to this point. First, Daylight Saving Time has taken over the universe and now lasts 11 of the 12 months of the year. I find this highly annoying, as I prefer my "extra" hour of daylight in the morning, thankyouverymuch, so this move to spring forward three weeks ahead of normal left me nothing but grumpy. Last week I actually had to wait for the sun to come up before I went for a run. I filled my extra time with work. I'd like to avoid that scenario in the future. But, nooooooo. No, we have to have silly little Daylight Saving That Doesn't Actually Reduce Our Overall Energy Consumption Because We Spend More Time In Our Cars, Burning Gasoline, But Nobody Ever Talks About THAT, Now Do They? Time.

Where was I? Oh right. So, last week when I realized that the weather was nice enough for my morning runs to be conducted outdoors, but the sunlight thing was lacking (and would be even worse, once the clocks changed), I started tossing around the idea of working early in the day, while it's still dark out, and exercising at "night," when it's light.

Then. Then Tracy and I took a little road trip and she, all-casual-like said, "Hey, if you're still thinking about running a half marathon, there's one coming up in May. Cinco de Mayo, actually." Well shit. I hadn't been thinking about running one, as my mind was still firmly planted in ski season, but I do have that half marathon training program hanging on my bulletin board at work and I could just pull that out and actually put it to good use.

So, there you have it: I'm running a half marathon. On May 5. Because I am an idiot.

Also idiotic: the training program is a 12-week thing, with options to make it longer. Those of you with good calendar skills will notice that there are not 12 weeks between now and May 5. So, I'm starting in week 5 and just pretending those last four weeks don't really count anyway. The good news is, my mileage is already there -- at the Week 5 mark. The bad news is that I'm not exactly accustomed to working out six days a week and the thought of the 10-mile long run in a few weeks makes me want to curl up in the fetal position already. To say nothing of the actual 13.1 miles the race directors expect me to run.

And that explains why I have spent countless hours debating the relative merits of roughly 249,503 pairs of shorts, half of which are currently strewn about my bedroom, none of which have yet convinced me that they are the pair I'm searching for. I'd share with you all the gory details, but at last we have reached the limits of what I'm willing to discuss with the entire Internet, and lo, it is my thighs. And if any of you are currently tempted to make some crack about said thighs, well, a nasty look is headed your way, because Friday is the training plan's designated Rest Day and I sure as hell am not getting up off the couch in order to come do anything about it.