So I registered for the Boilermaker and proceeded not to run. In my defense, the weather was bad and I felt like crap (oh, don’t point me out folks who run in a blizzard with pneumonia; that is not me).
I was determined to run on Monday. The weather cooperated. My body cooperated. My dog didn’t act too bent out of shape. I was off.
Regarding my dog: I was not completely without exercise all weekend, because Tabby and I took a lengthy walk on Sunday. I had not intended to do such a thing. I had intended to sit with my feet up, possibly sipping hot tea, recruiting my energies for the week ahead. However, when I went upstairs (for a purpose I no longer remember), Tabby assumed it was preparatory to taking her for a walk. She started jumping and hopping and looking so happy and hopeful, I just couldn’t disappoint her.
And for the first five minutes of the walk, I thought that maybe fresh air and exercise were just what I needed. I spent the subsequent thirty minutes of the walk realizing that they were not. As we walked through the park, I envisioned myself sitting on a bench and falling asleep. I wondered if somebody would rescue me before hypothermia set in but decided not to risk it.
I was feeling better by Monday afternoon. I only wished I had laid out my running clothes before work, but, goodness, who thinks of such things at four in the morning? (Probably those same folks that run in a blizzard with pneumonia.)
So there I was, running down the sidewalks of Herkimer. I saw the discarded underwear I’ve noticed before. They were crumpled up just off the sidewalk this time. I noted a screened-in porch with a lot of junk piled up in it. What a waste of a screened-in porch! Perhaps the owners mean to clean it in the spring. An open porch had two lovely wooden rocking chairs. Oh, I’ll be so glad when porch sitting weather arrives! (I almost said “I can’t wait,” but in fact, I shall have to.)
My run was feeling pretty OK. I got to the “I can rock this” stage fairly early on. A few leg muscles expressed displeasure further into the run, but you’ll have that. I refuse to let a little muscular miftiness deter me.
I felt so happy at the end of my run, I wanted to walk around with my fists in the air while somebody sang the chorus of “We Are the Champions.” Quite a feeling of triumph for one little run. Well, I try to accept joy wherever I find it. Boilermaker, here I come!
Mohawk Valley Girl 