I was unable to write today’s post while at work today, so I thought I would run after work and write my post about that. I had intended to run anyways, because I missed the last two days. And it being Wednesday, I thought the headline was a natural.
It rained this afternoon while I was at work. I spoke to Steven on the phone at my 2 p.m. break and he said it was pouring in Herkimer (I work in nearby Ilion). Oh dear. I hate to run in the rain, but, two days off, I made up my mind to it. Then the rain stopped by the time I left work shortly after 3:30, so that was OK.
As soon as I started, I felt I was in trouble. I kept saying to myself, “But it’s only been two days!” And I had long, good runs Friday, Saturday and Sunday. What does my body want from me? Well, today it seems it wanted me to sit down, but we kept running anyways.
I saw a guy with an adorable little chihuahua across the street. Unfortunately it was German Street and way too busy to just run across so I could pet it. I think I’ve met that chihuahua before. I called a greeting at least.
I could feel myself running slowly. Putt, putt, putting along in fact. A young man ran down the opposite side of the street (in the road, left side, facing traffic). He was loping along quite easily at a pace that mocked my middle aged shuffle. Ah, youth. I did not call to him. There were cars zooming by, so he probably would not have heard me. I comforted myself for my slow pace with the reflection that at least I would not run out of sidewalks in the village. As my runs get longer, I sometimes find myself looping around a lot in order to avoid crossing the busier streets. I lengthened my stride to a semi-sprint for a very few feet, as a lady waited for me before pulling out of the parking lot of the H.A.R.C. building at the end of the street.
I ran around the perimeter of the parking lot. I saw a very old sign I had noticed before and been unable to read. Today I was close enough to make out part of letters that might have at one time read “TOWED AT OWNER’S EXPENSE.” I wondered if anybody would come along and tow me if I just collapsed, which my body was urging me to do. I told myself they would need a flatbed for my fat ass and kept running.
Down this street, up that street. I saw a crumpled piece of cloth. It was too wet and smushed to tell what it was, but I wondered if it was somebody’s underwear. I kept seeing a pair of underwear out the other end of German Street earlier in the spring. It added a little interest to my run.
As I went, it did get easier. My leg muscles warmed up and stopped complaining so much. So when I saw an ambulance parked outside of the medical building I felt I did not need it. I looked for an ambulance attendant so I could yell, “I’m good!” or some other such remark, but nobody was there. Just as well, I suppose. Ambulance attendants don’t have time for my silliness.
By the time I reached the end of my run, though, my legs felt like macaroni. And not al dente, either; the overcooked kind. That happened in the middle of a previous run. That was when I thought of the al dente line, and I’m finally getting to use it. Waste not, want not. Anyways, on that run, I started thinking about how very cooked pasta can have its charms as well, most notably in some real mushy baked macaroni and cheese.
MMMmmmmm…. Now I’m thinking about pasta again. It’s good for runners to eat pasta. Of course, the good runners eat it the night before a big run, not after running and blogging about it. Oh well, I’ll just have to run tomorrow.
Mohawk Valley Girl 