Monday, June 26, 2006
My own personal wet T-shirt contest....
.....for the neighbors. I'm classy.
It must be the apocalypse. What else can explain why Virginia (at least the northern parts) suddenly looks like a scene from Waterworld. (And if so, why is there no Kevin Costner (stop judging me) and why is everyone here looking around at the water on the ground in shock as if they didn't notice that it all fell from the sky quickly in little drops?)
Being as devoted as I am to this whole "I'm gonna run a whole 10 miles" thing, I've been remarkably diligent about the training schedule that's been laid out for me. Considering, all the while, how adverse an idea "running" has typically been to me in the past.
Yesterday on the way to the God House for the 7:30AM service (we like to get on God's good side as early as humanly possible, you see.. we beat the rest of the sinners to His good graces..) I stared longingly out the foggy window of the car at the drizzly downpour wondering when I could fit in my prescribed 4 mile run. Much to my utter joy, around 7PM (shortly after discovering the UNTOLD delights of free podcasts..), the sun broke through and under a cool and breezy blue sky, I started my run.
With a podcast of the Byzantine Emperors going strong (again, quit judging me), I barely noticed the first few drops that started to come down. Round about the time that Diocletian assassinated his predecessors, I was about two miles out (read: faaarrrr away from shelter) when the real hard and heavy rain started to come down. No matter, says I. I tucked the iPod into my bra (the only place where it was least likely to sustain much water damage) and forged onward. I found the rain refreshing and at the very least, it scared all of the baby/dog walkers inside, out of my way and off my sidewalk.
I was barely into Constantine's reign when I realized I was running in over an inch of water, and that every item of clothing that I was wearing was not only sopping wet, but clinging to me like a really, really, bad and wet suit. It was also at this time that I noticed that my black sports bra was clearly visible through my light green t-shirt. Not only did I notice, but so did oncoming traffic. I appreciated the honks and flashed headlights (maybe in return for my own inadvertent and unintended 'flashed headlights'?). Maybe they were really saying, "Freak runner, get inside, it's raining!" -- but I prefer to think the message was more of a "Sweetest Siren! Your beauty and cling-ed clothing doth make me want to run thither with thee!"
The first bolt of lightening sent me tearing in the other direction and running at break-neck speed home. Another jigglie surprise that I'm sure my neighborhood traffic really appreciated. They ought to keep their eyes on the road.
I returned home a little rattled. Perhaps it was the .5mi sprint back to the house -- or the lack of a cool down and stretching -- or perhaps, more likely, the sheer volume (quantity and decibel) of the thunderstorm going on around me (compounded with the trees and electrical poles lining my path home).
I didn't make 4 miles.
But I know I could have, had mother nature not so obtrusively cock-blocked my last .75mi of a run.
What I learned:
1) My neighbors are all perverts. All of them.
2) After retiring, Diocletian moved to a palatial estate and grew cabbages. For real.
3) Running shoes (I got new ones!) take a while to dry.
4) I might really have something to be proud of -- that I can stay so dedicated to the run rather than puss out when it started to drizzle like I might have done in the past. Go me.
5) The betrothed needs a map of my running turf. He did a really amazing impersonation of my mom when I finally sloshed into the house -- all worried and like, "Where WERE you? Don't you know it's raining?" Um like, duh, do I look like I know it's raining?
It must be the apocalypse. What else can explain why Virginia (at least the northern parts) suddenly looks like a scene from Waterworld. (And if so, why is there no Kevin Costner (stop judging me) and why is everyone here looking around at the water on the ground in shock as if they didn't notice that it all fell from the sky quickly in little drops?)
Being as devoted as I am to this whole "I'm gonna run a whole 10 miles" thing, I've been remarkably diligent about the training schedule that's been laid out for me. Considering, all the while, how adverse an idea "running" has typically been to me in the past.
Yesterday on the way to the God House for the 7:30AM service (we like to get on God's good side as early as humanly possible, you see.. we beat the rest of the sinners to His good graces..) I stared longingly out the foggy window of the car at the drizzly downpour wondering when I could fit in my prescribed 4 mile run. Much to my utter joy, around 7PM (shortly after discovering the UNTOLD delights of free podcasts..), the sun broke through and under a cool and breezy blue sky, I started my run.
With a podcast of the Byzantine Emperors going strong (again, quit judging me), I barely noticed the first few drops that started to come down. Round about the time that Diocletian assassinated his predecessors, I was about two miles out (read: faaarrrr away from shelter) when the real hard and heavy rain started to come down. No matter, says I. I tucked the iPod into my bra (the only place where it was least likely to sustain much water damage) and forged onward. I found the rain refreshing and at the very least, it scared all of the baby/dog walkers inside, out of my way and off my sidewalk.
I was barely into Constantine's reign when I realized I was running in over an inch of water, and that every item of clothing that I was wearing was not only sopping wet, but clinging to me like a really, really, bad and wet suit. It was also at this time that I noticed that my black sports bra was clearly visible through my light green t-shirt. Not only did I notice, but so did oncoming traffic. I appreciated the honks and flashed headlights (maybe in return for my own inadvertent and unintended 'flashed headlights'?). Maybe they were really saying, "Freak runner, get inside, it's raining!" -- but I prefer to think the message was more of a "Sweetest Siren! Your beauty and cling-ed clothing doth make me want to run thither with thee!"
The first bolt of lightening sent me tearing in the other direction and running at break-neck speed home. Another jigglie surprise that I'm sure my neighborhood traffic really appreciated. They ought to keep their eyes on the road.
I returned home a little rattled. Perhaps it was the .5mi sprint back to the house -- or the lack of a cool down and stretching -- or perhaps, more likely, the sheer volume (quantity and decibel) of the thunderstorm going on around me (compounded with the trees and electrical poles lining my path home).
I didn't make 4 miles.
But I know I could have, had mother nature not so obtrusively cock-blocked my last .75mi of a run.
What I learned:
1) My neighbors are all perverts. All of them.
2) After retiring, Diocletian moved to a palatial estate and grew cabbages. For real.
3) Running shoes (I got new ones!) take a while to dry.
4) I might really have something to be proud of -- that I can stay so dedicated to the run rather than puss out when it started to drizzle like I might have done in the past. Go me.
5) The betrothed needs a map of my running turf. He did a really amazing impersonation of my mom when I finally sloshed into the house -- all worried and like, "Where WERE you? Don't you know it's raining?" Um like, duh, do I look like I know it's raining?
# posted by Cathy @ 8:37:00 PM 
