Hey, Amigios!
Isn’t this great? I’m already meeting my monthly average number of posts, and we’re not even a week into 2011! Frankly, it’s kind of creeping me out, this whole needing to share again, but my writing gear’s a little dusty, and I kind of miss the whole thing.
Man, winter is a drag. I still haven’t motivated myself to head outdoors again after Sunday’s slog in the fog. Sunday’s run was a huge milestone, though. Missy came back in from a “short” six miles or so, and since we didn’t have Sunday School, there was still over an hour before we had to be bundled into the car and trundled on down to the house of worship to get some religion. I felt like crap – there was some alien bug brought forth from Oklahoma over the holidays, and it laid waste to my and my youngest’s intestinal tracts. (In my case too much Clyde’s Cider probably helped)
But, it was pushing 50, and I pulled on the Garmin, pulled on some pants, and laced up the sneakers. The new (that we’ve been in for a WHOLE YEAR) house is at the top of our neighborhood; so I slogged down the hill, and out onto the Gold Star highway. I felt awful, so why not climb? There’s about a 1.5 mile long uphill from the entrance to our neighborhood to the top of the hill at Flanders Road, and I slogged on up
Felt.
Like.
Crap.
But, I did it.
It was a foggy, foggy New England day – cold, still snow-covered ground held back rosy-fingered dawn. Ink-black night had transitioned into unseparated-colors-and-whites pasty grey; the air was wet with condensation. No wind, and the kind of dead silence that’s usually not found unless one’s out to sea. Not many folks up early to practice religion the day after the New Year.
And, sucky though it was, it gave me hope. Made me remember what I love about the road, remember the good things that happen in my head when there’s nothing to think about except for turning circles with the feet, staying light in the knees, and following the white line or crushed
gravel.
At the top of the hill, I turned around and headed back towards the house. Funny thing with running, going down isn’t any easier than going up. But, when I made it back to the ‘hood, I figured I’d head the long way around the block to get home. Legs let out about halfway up the hill, walked for about a quarter of a mile, but ran the last quarter mile, uphill.
As I walked in the door, the hiccups set in, and Missy started laughing. Dunno why, but working hard in the cold always gives me hiccup. With my stomach still in a knot, I also got to re-sample the morning’s kashi (yum) [not], but managed to choke it back down.
So, the streak’s still alive. Monday, I snuck into spin class at the Y. 45 minutes of lungs searing on no breakfast may make Billy a slightly skinnier boy.
Streak continues today.
After a crummy adventure with the car in which I fell victim to terrible service and wrongly questioned someone who I’d usually known to do good work, came home to a great supper with Missy and the kids. Put everyone to bed, then TO THE LAIR! 45 minutes on the rollers, 26 minutes on the treadmill, shower, write, and to bed.
With an actual paper book that no-one but me’s requiring me to read.
All hail Discordia