Queen Charming, my backyard-neighbour, is a personal trainer. She’s one fit lady.

A few months ago I was whining about how out of shape I am, and how hard it is to get motivated to work out when I’m just so darn tired all the time. And Queen Charming was all, “Hey, have I got the event for you! I’m running the Army Run in September, and you should run with me. It’s only 5K!”

Then I had a momentary break from reality and during the black out, I actually signed up.

Even though there is no chance that Queen Charming and I will actually run together — I’m sure she’ll finish in half the time I will. And also not to mention that even if we could run together, there’s no way it’d be a social occasion for a little chit-chat. We’d be like:

QC: It’s such a beautiful day.
Me: grunt
QC: I got this new water bottle, on sale at The Running Room.
Me: gasp gasp
QC: What do you think of the new Season 6 of So You Think You Can Dance?
Me: quietly dies

So yes, not quite such a gal pal bonding moment.

Anyway, I’m registered, and there’s a free t-shirt on the line, so I’m going to show up. Dammit.

Even though it’s at eight in the morning.

Even though I have Gal Smiley’s birthday party the day before, an outdoor party where I will be entertaining eight children.

Even though the evening before, I have girl’s night poker, which means crazy snacking and staying up late and probably pulling a muscle from laughing so hard.

I was out for a training run last night, about 3K of run a minute, then walk a minute. It was hard work, but I made it, and I feel good about it. Not too tired today, either (thank you, caffeine). So it seems like…I could do this. I could make it.

Or maybe I’ll just get the t-shirt and then take a cab.

I’ll let you know if I survive.