The Edge of Comfort

This weekend calls for a 13.1 mile run – a place I have been before. Four times, to be exact. I’m not exactly worried about it except that I’m running the route without psych support. The in-laws are outlawing it in Europe and The Kisa is Rocky Mountain High so I’m solo. Coming off a dog attack and coming close to the edge of my comfort zone, I’m nervous. This weekend marks the end of what I call chartered territory. In two weeks I’ll delve into numbers I’ve never seen the likes of before. Can you say you’re lost when you’ve drawn your own map? How does that work?

Maybe it’s because last night’s run was full of impatience. I think I was off my game even before I hit the tread. Consider this: I took extra time to lube New Guinea’s belt, wash his display screen, light the rose scented candle for Duane (yes, I run with a candle burning, just like a drummer – how cliche), turn on the fans – all three of them, stretch the crazy tight quads, sip the lime water, futz with the hair, pick the super short shorts out of my azz, straighten the slipping bra straps, check the music, blah, blah, blah. So much circling the brain I found it hard to stop circling the tread. So hard to relax. Once on New Gin, finding that sweet spot was damn near impossible. 6.44 miles was a labor of love like a mother. Sometimes, you just want to smack the kid.

But, But. But! Did I tell you? No. I don’t think I did. New Guinea is back to behaving! Fixed! No unexplained heart rate anymore. You know what it was? It was the phone system. Electrical interference. I know, I know! Hard to believe but it’s the only explanation. When we lost our phones and Kisa killed the connection presto! the treadmill came back to life. We no longer have a doorbell/intercom but I have my mileage display. Whatever.

Last confession – hydration. Typically, I run on an empty stomach and I don’t carry anything with me. I can hear every runner now…You. Need. Fuel. Yeah, yeah. I know. I’m working on it. As I said, uncharted territory.

Advertisements
Categories: Confessional, running | Tags: , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Post navigation

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

Blog at WordPress.com.

%d bloggers like this: