I'm Glad I Made It

Where's Alabama when you need it?

When I'm cold, I like to look at the weather of places that I've lived and then wonder why I ever moved.

Auburn is having a cold snap today: the high will be a mere 49.

Meanwhile, NY is advertising a high of 24 and Boston might hit 20.

Sigh.

What's not to like about Auburn, anyway?
1. There are a lot of chains, so you know exactly what kind of food you will be getting.
2. It's pretty awesome that it is the only school in the country with not one, not two but THREE mascots! The War Eagle, the Plainsmen and the Tiger.
3. Pink Dockers never went out of style there.
4. You know almost everyone by sight.
5. It's hard to get lost.
6. If you were ever to find yourself really hungry and penniless, there's always a plethora of road kill, including tortoise and armadillo. How's that for exotic eats?!
7. You know where your ants and cockroaches are at all times because they are ginormous. Everything is bigger in the South.


I could go on but I keep coming back to the whol 49 degrees thing. Tomorrow, it's supposed to be 54 there. Sigh.

Instead, I will be attempting an icy run in 15 degree weather. On a river.

I need a new regular run in Boston.

Yesterday, though, I'm glad I took a break from work to take a solo mid-day run.

Not that I didn't try for company but the combo of the Manhattan Half, the weather, and peoples' training schedules prevented me from finding a running partner.

I even posted on Facebook, to no avail.

I wonder if everyone has been meaning to have an intervention with me......like....

"I'm sorry but you just need to know this. You smell. We can't keep running with you if you stay like this. We can't be your enabler."

Heh. To which I'd respond

"You smell, too!"

Nice Tu Toque fallacy there for you!

Anyway, on came the shoes - the old ones because of the ice and snow and slush - and out the door went me.

The run started off unpromisingly. Eastern Parkway was plowed but the intersections were such a mess that, at the first one, I had to suffer the feet-freezing dirty ice water surrounding the curb.

I really don't want to know what was in the water that had, by then, coated my feet. There's usually an ugly oily dark sheen to it. Bleg.

And I couldn't keep up my heart rate because, at every intersection, I had to stop and pick my way carefully around all the wintery obstacles. Which also made this part quite chilly. Especially with the ever-present wind on Eastern Parkway. Stupid 19th century urban planning.

Anyway, I thought about going around the outside of the park but worried about the ice. From later reports, it sounded like the better route.

Inside, the on-ramp to the loop was icy and slippery. Again, I had to stop and pick my way into the park. Once in the park, though, there was enough snow on the running lane that the footing wasn't too bad.

I definitely do not want to see what it looks like today! It got warm enough to melt some of the snow yesterday. No more salt trucks and 15 degrees makes for leg-breaking conditions!

Slowing in parts because of the ice slicks, I jogged my way around the park. There were a few other joggers. I spent most of my time trying to catch them and then pass them.

It wasn't hard. I think I was in the park during the 'slow lane' hours.

Or, I was just being idiotic because of the poor footing.

Pushed it up the hill. Though, as I was wheezing up it, how much I need more hill work.

Then remembered I wasn't supposed to be pushing anything.

I love it when one's health is an excuse to be lazy!

"I would TOTALLY do that all-hill run with you today. Sounds like a blast! Especially the part about puking at the top. But, you know, my doctor.......Otherwise, I'd be in."

Heh.

Pushing it up the hill was the only real excersize I got. The way back home was, again, an exercise in frustration with the intersections.

Stupid winter.

I want to go back to where, on warm summer days, you are sitting in the one bar in town and, where, amid the chatter and the brightly colored polos, you might hear such gems as "War F-ing Eagle!" and "I'm soooo drunk, y'all!"

Plus, fried pickles. Fried everything, actually.

And no one ever bothers you when you are running or walking because they think you are either homeless or crazy.

Ah. Those were the days.