18 miles complete this evening!

Ran almost entirely to angry hip hop and at 6.7mph except for the last mile which was 6.9-7.5.

I ran the first 6 miles on the Washington and Old Dominion trail (yes with my trusty GPS/heart rate monitor so I could check pace and make sure I wasn't about to choke in the oppressive heat), but it gets dark pretty quickly after 7pm and since I started a bit late I ran the rest at my gym.

Was kind of disappointed that the woman who I met two weeks ago wasn't at the gym tonight. I don't think I wrote about her when it happened but when I ran the 17 miler last time, at about mile 14 this woman comes into the gym and starts talking at the side of my head. I politely tell her I can't hear her because I'm listening to music. She keeps talking despite this, little gobules of spittle forming at the side of her mouth and I accept that she won't move until I hear what she has to say so I reluctantly  take my headphones off and she's asking me how long I'm going to be on the treadmill.

She climbs onto the treadmill next to me, awaiting my response.

I tell her I'm not sure - probably just less than a half hour as I have 3 miles to go. No response. I put my headphones back on and focus back on my run.

A few minutes pass, and she's talking at the side of my face again. Flecks of spit, not sweat (she's going 4.5 mph) alert me to this. I stare at her incredulously and remove my headphones.

She's lecturing me on how long I've been on the treadmill. It's inconsiderate. Unacceptable.

Note - she's on the other treadmill and there is no one else at the gym.

She continues - I'm not the only person living in this complex. The world does not revolve around me. I can't hog the treadmill.

What does she want from me? I'm now at 15 miles, feet pounding.  I know the other treadmill's TV doesn't work perfectly, so I figure maybe that's it. I mean, she doesn't have headphones but maybe she wants to lipread The Bachelorette or Biggest Loser.

I tell her we can chat all about it after the run, headphones back in. She keeps talking but I really can't hear her now. I crank Rage Against The Machine's 'Killing in the Name of' and somehow being cranky helps me run harder and I do my fastest long run ever, closing it out with a grueling grade increase combined with speed increases until I get up to about 8 miles/hour.

I hit 17 miles and slow down to a walk. During my cool down I asked if she wanted to swap machines. She smugly refuses, and mocking my Australian accent says 'I'm sorry love, I can't hear you I'm listening to music and trying to lose weight while I throw some shrimp on the barby!!'

Oh boy. That's funny. She's been agonizing over that one liner now for 25 minutes.

She's very lucky that I am completely juiced on endorphins, which make you happy. Happy people don't slap people in communal gyms, even if they're mean and do the worst Australian accents ever. They just don't.

She continues to tell me that any workout that is over 30 minutes is inconsiderate to other people and she needs me to acknowledge this. She's pushing my buttons. I've promised myself not to bite - in moments of crisis, you have to revert to your higher self.

Then I say something bad.

I tell her that if she truly believes that, then that is probably why she's a porker. Oh dear. Factually correct, yes - but decidedly not what I had meant to come out of my mouth. It just kind of slipped...

Well anyway, needless to say the gloves came off then and she started cussing me out something impressive. I did apologize for the porker comment (even though I was pretty mad by now it was unkind and I hate when I stoop, and besides, there's just something intrinsically satisfying about repeating the word 'porker') but she wouldn't have it. Eventually I became worried that she might eat me so I went home shortly thereafter...

And haven't seen her since.

Luckily I'm moving back to New York soon so hopefully that was the last of it...!

Ah - the perils of training for your second marathon in a gated community in Reston....doh!