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Back on Track? Not Exac’

See what I did there?  I was going for a jazzy kind of thing, like in “I Get a Kick Out You” when Louis Armstrong sings, “I get no kick from cocaine!  If I took a sniff it would bore me terrif’…”

That by way of introduction to a Running Commentary post.  I have not been running very much lately and in fact did not intend to run today.  I felt too tired and my legs felt stiff.  Then I thought my legs might feel less stiff if I exercised them. Maybe a nice walk, I thought.  I have been working on my feet for the past two (ten-hour) days, but pacing between machines is not the same as taking a walk.  Then I thought, oh what the hell, and got into running clothes.  I did not have to run for a long time, I reasoned.  Twenty minutes, half hour tops.  After all, I was rebuilding.  And I almost never at any time run very fast.

Today I ran even slower than usual.  It was a shuffle, it was a plod.  I figured anybody looking at me might think, “I can do better than that!” and thus be encouraged to reach their own fitness goals.  But I kept going.  I wondered if there were any 5K’s around here in the near vicinity.  Could I run 5 kilometers?  Did I want to run in a 5K?  The answers to the last two questions were yes, and no. But I kept going.

As I was running down Caroline Street, I noticed a kid on a bicycle a couple of blocks ahead of me.  Was that the chubby-legged swine that gave me the finger when I was running some time ago?  Yes, I remember petty little insults from long ago, although I try not to dwell on them.  I don’t think it was the same kid.  In any case, he was far enough and headed further away from me that I did not have to worry about further insults, if any.

It was not particularly difficult to run, but it wasn’t much fun either.  I wondered how long I should run for.  Maybe less than 20 minutes?  No, I could make it for 20.  More than 20?  Let’s not push it.  I passed a guy sitting on his porch with his feet up.  I would certainly rather be doing that, but I could not share that thought with the guy, because he was talking on a cell phone.  I like to interact with people as I run by.  I ran by a little kid on a bicycle with training wheels.

“Hey, buddy, will you give me a ride home on the handlebars?  I’m small!”

His mother chuckled.  Of course it was a joke: I know I am not particularly small, especially where I sit.  I started to chuckle myself, picturing my fat butt fitting on those little handlebars.  If I didn’t break the bike, which was likely to happen and not likely to be funny.

I ended up running for 22 minutes, my favorite number.  For once my cool-down walk did not feel terrific (terrif’?).  However, I ran, I wrote a blog post about it.  I’m calling that win on Tired Tuesday.