Fajita night

I think my coach either has me confused with someone faster, or he knows exactly who I am and he's simply trying to kill me. Here's the evidence: Last night's workout consisted of 10 x 400m repeats in 1:24 with 75 seconds gasp-walk-jog rest between each. I managed to do it all successfully, but not without nearly vomiting.

The second piece of evidence is that he thinks I can run the Lyon Marathon between 3:00-3:05. This is clearly unrealistic considering I've never run under 19:00 for 5k, and my half-marathon best is 1:32:36. I should mention also that the training he has mapped out for the next few months is based on this fantasy objective. I am going to get my butt kicked.

As far as teaching goes, today I ran into trouble trying to explain the concept of "it" to children who are used to every object having a gender.

On Tuesday, one of my little eight-year-olds asked me if I'd be at her school next Thursday. "Yes, but I don't teach your class; I teach the others." Well, she told me, "I know it's your birthday, and there might be a surprise."

Another little boy gave me a sheet of paper with two bizarre paragraphs written on it. It's from a computer game, he explained, and could I please translate it into French so he could understand?

Death worm = The most vicious and effective weapon the clagnor have ever made, intelligent, fast and deadly, very few have survived to describe the beast.

Tonight Meredith and I are making fajitas, so I should be off to start making guacamole!