Short, Sweaty Shuffle

Subtitle: I Wish I WAS Lame! (You know, just a little reference to Lame Post Friday, and a lament about my lack of running prowess)

Fine time I’m going to have in the Boilermaker. I just went three days without running at all. In my defense, two of those days were, in the words of Cole Porter, Too Damn Hot (that was a Cole Porter tune, wasn’t it? I’ll ask Steven; he’ll know). Friday (today) promised to be cooler. As I sat at work all day sweating, I knew it was not the miracle for which I had been hoping. I also knew that it would be a very good idea if I ran anyways.

Stepping outside after work, I encountered a lovely breeze which gave me hope. The sunshine was still bright and brutal, though. My thermometer was reading 79 degrees, so I decided to postpone my run till 5 o’clock. Perhaps the temperature would have dropped at least a little. As it turned out, I forgot to check the temperature before I set out, so I’ll never know the exact number of degrees.

I’ll never know the exact amount of sweat that dripped off my body, either, but it certainly seemed considerable. As I ran down German Street, I could see that the opposite sidewalk had a lot more shade. But it’s hard to cross German in 5 o’clock traffic. I don’t like to do it unless I have a compelling reason, like I’m going to run one of the hills over there. I was not about to run a hill. I had previously made up my mind to run a short length of time and no hills. I thought I would try being good to myself.

It didn’t feel very good as I went on. I was running very slowly. I mean even slower and more shuffley than my usual pace. At first I felt that I could at least keep going if I kept the slow pace. Well, what’s wrong with a slow pace, I asked myself. You can’t run very fast for the first few miles of the Boilermaker anyways, because of all the runners. And, you know, somebody has to be in last place.

I always remember a story I heard about a guy who finished the Boilermaker dead last. A cop car was keeping pace with him, because it was past time for the roads to be open. The cop kept asking the runner did he want a ride. The runner told the cop to shut up and go eat another donut. I don’t know if that is a true story. If I am in last place in the Boilermaker, I will try to to get snarky with any police officers.

So I pretty much decided where to run based on which direction or side of the street had the most shade (except, as I said, for crossing German). And I must say, there was very little shade to be had. I kept myself going by telling myself, “This may be what the Boilermaker is like.” I had pretty good luck with temperatures the two Boilermakers I ran, but I’ve heard it’s been run in 90 degrees on occasion.

The most notable thing I saw on my run was a beautiful classic Mustang convertible getting a jump from a pick-up truck. What a great day for a ride in a convertible, and I adore classic Mustangs. The most enviable thing I saw was people relaxing on shady porches.

In short, it was one of those runs that afterwards I felt good that I ran more than feeling it was a good run. Tomorrow I should be able to run a six in the morning, a clearly superior time for a run. As for my subtitle about wishing I was lame… well, then I wouldn’t have to worry about the Boilermaker. But I don’t really wish it. I am a little sorry I used up my Lame Post yesterday, though. Because this is kind of a lame post about kind of a lame run. Oh well, as I intend to run again tomorrow, so too I intend to post. I’ll strive to do better. Happy Friday.