Saturday Run

Last week I gave the perhaps unneeded advice to don’t wait four days before running. This week, I was much smarter. I ran Monday, then I ran Friday. Three days is clearly fewer than four. Even if my Friday run sucked, it would probably suck less, and my Saturday run would be way better. As it turns out, not so much.

My Friday run was a lesson in perseverance. That’s OK. I can always use more lessons in perseverance. I looked forward to Saturday’s run.

My legs were immediately like, “What’s this all about? Stop it now!” And there’s a grammatical construction many people criticize: saying “like” when you mean “said.” As in: I was like, “Di-duh, di-duh,” and he was like, “Da-dih, da-dih,” etc. Well, my legs cannot actually say anything, so I think “my legs were like” is actually fairly descriptive.

You would think that as I pondered that in my head, my legs would stop complaining. In fact, I did think that, but to no avail. I ran on, and looked for other things to distract myself with.

I saw a girl being dropped off at a house and wondered if she was coming off a one-night-stand. Then I said, “Watch it, Cindy, this is a family blog.” More likely she was returning from a night shift somewhere. The time was right. I felt happy that I do not work nights, although some people like it.

I ran through the parking lot of the County Court Facility, a place I have never run. Often you find coins in a parking lot. Not this morning. I suppose people try to hold tight to their money when they go to court.

I ran down a street whose name I had not noticed before. It was a first name that I shall not repeat, in case any reader might rejoice in that name (that is an expression I love, “rejoicing in the name of blank”). I’ve always thought it was the ultimate geek name, and not geek in the good sense of the word. You know, somebody really smart, but just a little off kilter and socially awkward, usually loving sci-fi. The one person I ever knew of this name was none of that, except for the socially awkward part. When you first met him you might think he was a nice, friendly guy. Then you realized he was not particularly nice, he was being friendly because he had no friends, and although he apparently wanted some, there were a few good reasons he had none. It would have been sad, except the guy was so annoying it was hard to feel sorry for him. While I pondered the memory of this guy, and how I couldn’t call him a geek because in fact I like geeks, and how I’d like to meet somebody I like of that name, I had run down a few more streets and was approaching my street again.

I ran past my street in order to make my run the length I wanted. I had my reward, because I met up with Pudge. Pudge is the cutest pug dog. When he sees me coming, he sits down very nicely and waits for me, because he knows I want to pet him. Then when I get there, he’s so jumpy and wiggly, I almost can’t pet him. I tried my best to pet my wiggly canine friend, exchanged greeting with his owner, and ran on.

By now my legs’ complaints had quieted to the proverbial dull roar. I have not had that “I can rock this” feeling on a run in a while now. I’ll persevere though (after all, I had a lesson in it Friday). It’s almost fall, and that’s a beautiful time to run in the Mohawk Valley (phew! I almost went the whole post without mentioning the Mohawk Valley). (Is is bad to end a piece of writing with a parenthetical comment?)