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Not an Ice Cream Run

As the Boilermaker looms ever closer, I’m feeling the pressure to run, run run. I also have rehearsals for Harvey (the play I am in with Ilion Little Theatre) (feel I must say it every time) as well as other responsibilities (hello, working to pay the bills), so today I thought I would compromise with a shorter run. Sunday when I added my weekly 10 percent, I was up to 40 minutes (laugh and point if you must), so I thought a 20 or 30 minute run would at least get me out there.

I put in a load of laundry before I started out. Then I thought a 30 minute run would be perfect. Followed by a 10 minute cool down walk around the block with Tabby, I’d be getting home just as the laundry was finished. How efficient am I? I could hear the ice cream truck as I came out the back door. No ice cream for me, I thought. I’m not just training for the Boilermaker; I’m trying to drop that last ten pounds.

So off I went, ice cream truck tune playing in my head. At least it gave me a good pace. The sun was brighter than I had realized, making the temperature warmer than I had expected. Yesterday was downright hot, and I did not run. I thought today would be better.

I heard the ice cream truck behind me. No way! Was it following me? Well I couldn’t get ice cream anyways, I told myself; I didn’t have any money. Still, I thought, I bet that ice cream truck would follow me home, especially if I promised to buy a half dozen treats, which I could stick in the freezer and surprise Steven with. If they lasted that long. I didn’t see the truck. Another block down I didn’t hear it either. Phew!

Down this street, up that street. Is this the way I went Saturday? Go the other way. I thought I saw a bag of yard waste with a head. I mean, it didn’t look like a real head. Like a bucket or something with something on top to look like hair. When I got closer, I saw it was a kind of a lumpy person sitting on the ground near the curb. He had a bucket shaped head with one of those hairdos that are shaved all around but mop-like on top. I am being completely unspecific about what street I saw this person on, because I think that is kind of an unflattering description. To mitigate, I couldn’t really see him all that well; my running glasses are several prescriptions ago.

I ran down Folts Street, which the Folts Home is not located on. Carney’s Corners is. They make great subs. Hmmm… I could go in, order a sub for delivery, run home and pay for it when it arrived. What a great idea! I turned the other way before I could talk myself into it.

I decided to head toward Myers park, which I used to always run through just before heading home. I had to cross Main Street. Traffic. Ugh. I jogged in place till I had my chance then sprinted. I’d like to say I crossed the street at a dead run, but two thirds of the way across I saw the curb and thought my stride was not the proper length. I had a brief vision of myself sprawling on the sidewalk, toe bruised, shin bleeding, pride in complete tatters. I avoided that disaster and headed towards the park.

Was that the damn ice cream truck heading in the same direction? Was it stalking me? Probably not. I believe the person who owns or runs it lives near where I live. I’ve seen the truck parked at a house a couple streets away. Again, I will not get specific. I’m sure there are those that stalk the ice cream truck.

I ran though the park as the truck drove on. Then around the perimeter of the park, to gain my full run time, then home without further incident or temptation. I did not have ice cream. I do not intend to have ice cream. Today anyways.

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