Today I had to take my own advice. Stop thinking about it and start moving. I woke up to gray skies and 35 degrees. Call me crazy, but sitting with the Sunday paper and a big cup of coffee sounded more appealing than an 8 mile run. Just so I couldn't back out, I rolled out of bed and into my running clothes. I figured I would looks stupid reading the paper in my tights and Under Armour and the kids would just keep asking me when/if I was going to run. Better to just go do it. Plus, Ken was coming along and it's way easier to get out there with someone else than on your own.
I'd like to say the run was the best ever and I got inspired and I was so glad to be out there. But, really, it was just okay. I was sluggish. The air smelled like cow shit. There were big hills. I felt queasy. My stomach cramped, but I farted and felt better. In the end we did 8 miles in 1 hour, 10 minutes. Not the fastest but still a respectable (in my book) 8:52 min/mile pace.
Afterwards, I went to Starbucks to grab a misto. I was wearing my Boulder Marathon running hat. The baristo (is that masculine for barista?) asked me if I was gong to run that race again this year. He said he had done his first half at that race this year. In my head I'm thinking, "Ah, a new runner. Doing is first half." So, I ask him how his first half went. His reply? "Well I had done a 100K the weekend before and I just wanted to see how it would go doing a shorter race with a different crowd." My head was spinning as I tried to add up how many miles a 100K was. I know a 10K is 6.2 miles, so it must be close to...holy shit 60 miles! And if I was a mathematician or even slightly smart I would've known immediately that 6.2 x 100 = 62 but I think all that smell of cow shit had killed some brain cells. So much for cute boy doing his first half. He quickly moved from being coy and vulnerable first-half-boy to slightly annoying stud.
And, if this wasn't enough, I got the following text from my 12 year old son when I got home:
I wasn't sure if I should call social services to come pick him up or if I should congratulate him for being clever. I know it is my fault he writes these things since I make may pooping habits fairly public. For what it's worth, I don't just poop my pants whenever, like when I'm watching American Idol (although I did love the "pants on the ground" song). The crapping of the pants only happens sometimes and only when I'm exerting myself beyond what is safe on a run. And it's not a huge turd, but more of a squirt. Just to clarify.
I am going to make my first million developing a running short with built-in Depends. What are your goals?
Drinking: H20. Trying to re-hydrate.