After the Boilermaker my main goal was to NOT crash and burn. I guess I can say, so far, so good.
I thought it was perfectly acceptable to take Monday off, but I went for half hour runs Tuesday and Wednesday. Minor hill Tuesday, challenging hill Wednesday. My body didn’t like it so much, but I persevered. Thursday I went hiking in the woods with a friend. Friday I was Too Damn Hot (that’s a song by Cole Porter or somebody). This morning (Saturday) I was determined to not slack off.
I decided to run out Steuben Road, where there is a considerable hill. Must run hills. Steuben isn’t my favorite road to run up, due to lack of sidewalks or wide shoulders, but I figured at six o’clock on a Saturday morning, I would be OK. The first think I noticed was how humid it was. Thick air. To match my thick head. I took deep breaths, telling myself that it was not true that humidity makes it much harder to breathe. It only seems that way. Then it seemed to take a ridiculous amount of time to reach Stueben road. How long is German Street anyways? At last I reached it. Up I went.
Right away I heard a rather loud truck behind me. Seriously, it sounded like a construction vehicle or a dump truck loaded all the way up. I told myself it was OK, though, because it was on the opposite side of the road. He had plenty of room not to hit me. So when the bastard goes by me, it turned out to be a regular pick up truck with a bad muffler or something, and the guy crosses over the center line! Why would you do that? I mean, many nice people coming towards me go over the center line to be further away from me. I always give them the “thank you” wave when they do. Going over the center line in this case brought him closer to me! What was that all about? Well, he wasn’t considerably closer to me. I daresay he didn’t even realize he crossed the center line or was perhaps avoiding something unseen by me on the other side of the road. Still. Some people.
I continued on my upward climb. I reminded myself of mile four (I think) of the Boilermaker. The uphill lasts a long time. The upslope itself is no steeper than anything else I run, less steep than some. But it goes on and on. Note to self: run this road more often if and when training for next year’s Boilermaker.
I looked at my watch. I wasn’t sure how far I wanted to run. I thought a half hour total, like earlier in the week. That might mean I would run up for fifteen minutes and turn around. I didn’t really want to do that. I tried to distract myself by looking at people’s flowers. In urns, on wooden carts, in raised beds made of bricks. I really must do more with my lawn next year. Sweat was dripping off my face. No breeze relieved my pain. At last I looked to my left, across two back yards and saw the road I would be running down as soon as I got to it. It couldn’t be long now.
When I got to Highland Avenue (I think that’s what it’s called), I thought briefly about going on the next road, which I believe comes out at a similar place. Then I remembered encountering an unchained dog on that road. He probably had that invisible fencing, but you never know. I turned onto Highland.
And was immediately barked at by a big dog. He was behind a fence, though, so I thought I was OK. He was big enough to jump over the fence, but not all breeds are inclined or able to jump. I told him I was leaving right away. He was unimpressed. Then I saw a lady on a porch across the street, so I said good morning to her and wondered if she had heard me talking to the dog. Probably.
I was going downhill now, so that seemed better. Looking at my watch I thought I would probably go over my half hour goal, but that was OK too. Somewhere along the way, my legs settled in and I realized it was not a problem to run. It was kind of fun. I ran for 37 minutes but was not inclined to go for another three and make it forty. What kind of miracles of dedication do you want from me anyways?
Mohawk Valley Girl 