Thursday – 4 Miles, Check!
I’m going to stop bitching about how cold it is because apparently, kids, Santa came to town early and he brought motherf&cking Mr. Snowface or whatever the hell that guy’s name is with him and that’s just the way it’s gonna be forever now.
I may be getting my Christmas movie characters mixed up. Whatever, I’m typing this with a series of eye-blinks because my fingers are currently the consistency of that turkey you forgot to defrost last Thanksgiving.
I tackled Thursday’s run with much the same attitude that a Gazelle has as it’s being chased by a Cheetah who has dinner on his mind. Except in this case, instead of running away from a dangerous four-legged predator, I was running away from obesity and shame. But it still counts.
That’s not to say that Thursday’s run was all bad. But mostly it was.
The one highlight was when I got stopped – yes, stopped – by another runner. I thought at first that I might have forgotten pants again. Blessedly, I hadn’t.
No, she wanted to ask me about my shoes.
“Are those Asics?” She asked me, jogging-in-place like a lunatic because seriously who does that.
“Yes.” Are you going to steal them? Are you sane? Are you going to capture me and make a windchime out of my genitals? I didn’t ask.
“You know, you should really try barefoot running. It’s a lot better for you.” She helpfully pointed down to indicate her pair of Vibram whateverthosethingsarecalled. I swear to God some huckster with a foot fetish and a dream came up with those. And he’s sitting in a mansion somewhere and I’m working for the man.
“Okay.” I said, finishing the rest of the sentence in my head as I ran off. You crazy hippie. Also thank you for not killing me.
Saturday – Timed 5k run, Check!
For Saturday’s run, I got a slight reprieve from the polar vortex here in Fort Worth when I traveled up to Omaha, Nebraska.
And by “slight reprieve” I mean that it snowed two inches. So the opposite of “reprieve”, I guess.
Yes, walking contradiction that I am, I was excited to go running in the snow.
Despite all my bitching about the cold the last few weeks, running in snow was a new experience for me, and I always get excited about new experiences.
“Don’t do it!” my in-laws cried.
“You’ll break a leg!” their neighbors said.
“Please don’t get yourself killed.” Sarah pleaded, for the umpteenth time in our storied marriage.
But I’m a renegade. And, as time has testified again and again, a bull-headed idiot. I was determined to do it.
I departed my in-laws’ house wearing my TCU zip-top and some running shorts. It was all I had brought with me.
I’ll go ahead and put this in writing, online, in public, just for you Sarah – you were right. Save this. Savor this moment.
I was so cold. But by the time I realized it, the front door had already shut behind me (Sarah was no doubt speed-dialing our attorney to make sure my affairs were in order), and my pride wouldn’t allow me to go back inside.
So run I did. I ran. I ran so Goddamn fast, mainly because I was convinced that if I stopped I’d freeze solid to the ground and alien archaeologists would dig my perfectly preserved body up hundreds of years later and say “THIS is why the species died off!”