On, 4 weeks into Chi-training

We are now 4 weeks into marathon training. Let me paint a picture:

The alarm goes at 6:20! You were ambitious the night before & you thought maybe you could get in a couple of wake up miles in the morning. But, sleep is pretty important right? I mean, you decided to run a track workout at the hottest part of yesterday. I mean, you were on the alert all night, woke yourself up with a fart, starting sleepmurmerin' through the collected landscapes of the books you're reading. Yes, sleeeep wins. There's a lot of "nooo, I don't want to's." Coffee is the day's deepest pleasure, and there never seems to be enough time to enjoy it. You're reading through a dense Ken Kesey on the walk to work, barely partial to one after the other construction project & yet somehow extremely adept at the disproportionate pavement. You put in a half day at the office, researching the what-not-to-do's, mealplans, workout pacing, theories behind, snacking incessantly (which you understand will only get worse). At this point you're pretty irritable. You don't like being asked questions, and you probably ate all the food you packed to last the whole day already. Your lunchtime run comes up (everyone is pleased you have an outlet). But you forgot your socks & your data plan is maxed, so you have hear yourself think about how sad it is that your blisters are bleeding blood on your new shoes. You run. You limp to the foilage to concoct a tropical leaf separation between shoe & blister. It works and you feel like a real Bear Grylls. Then it doesn't work. You get through it with thoughts of a second cup of coffee, and also because you run past Ryan Stiles and you have to look really rad. Post run you might be a little ill-equipped verbally (See: the many times this has happened in the last few weeks - "...are you having a stroke?"), and the paper napkin wipedown you gave yourself won't stop the bristling of pimples from developing on your sweatier of zones. But you ride the sweat chills and try to communicate. Maybe you're the slightest more pleasing to be around, with the intake of endorphins, but like you like to say, "It doesn't matter when your body is used to receiving a certain amount everyday anyway," like the downplaying a-hole you are. You put in your second half of the workday. Like a Goosebumps choose-your-own-ending, you can either work your second job, go on run #2, or shower yourself because girl you're rank. If it's choose-your-own-ending option-shower, you'll likely drink a half bottle of red wine or grab some IPA's with the chicks at the brewery. You'll probably say out loud, "Somebody make me dinner," even if no one is around. Most often, you will snack like you endlessly do, while reading, dreading the farts that will surely wake you from that slumber you need to get your muscles back into gear for your next workout. Repeat.