Repost from 2008…
What do you call procrastination when it finally gives into action? A short run served with a better attitude. I finally laced up the shoes 75 minutes before I had to meet S for Robinella. Talk about forcing myself to be unambitious. Actually, I have no plans to formally start training until I know what I’m running for. I refuse to run for nothing so a good, good charity has to show itself before I can commit. I’ve decided that running in the Gasper just to run in another state isn’t for me. End of story. Anyway, back to the run.
I ran the same route as before: Chestnut, Bridge, Prospect, bike path & home. This time I ran with a little more gusto and looked like a beet when I got back. When will I lose the red face?
Here’s what I liked about this run: seeing a new crop of real tigerlilies, spotting the spirits in the graveyard, no cars on Prospect (I hate not having a sidewalk) and the simple, simple fact I felt stronger on this run. Now, for the bad news. I didn’t appreciate the carload of yea-boyz smirking at me – okay, so I’m a woman running. Big deal. Roll your tongues back in. I’m not your type. Never mind I’m old enough to be your mother. I also didn’t care for the creepy man on the bike path. Decidedly darker than normal (clouds were rolling in), it was the most nerve wracking part of the run. How do I know you’re not faking that limp but as soon as I brush past you, you won’t snatch me? I watch too much crime tv. I swear I saw braces underneath his pants, but that didn’t stop me from picking up the pace a little.
I felt like this run was an experience in soaring. Like I said, I felt stronger. I’m feeling guilty for not wearing a heart monitor, a pedometer or anything that would track stats. I have no clue how fast (or slow) I ran. I’m not aware of my distance nor do I care. All I know is that I ran. End of story.
Conversation with my knee- a little creaky.