On I went, out of the wood, passing the man leading without knowing I was going to do so. Flip-flap, flip-flap, jog-trot, jog-trot, curnchslap-crunchslap, across the middle of a broad field again, rhythmically running in my greyhound effortless fashion, knowing I had won the race though it wasn't half over, won it if I wanted it, could go on for ten or fifteen or twenty miles if I had to and drop dead at the finish of it, which would be the same, in the end, as living an honest life like the governor wanted me to. -Alan Sillitoe, "Loneliness of the Long Distance Runner"

Wednesday, February 10, 2010

Not my best angle, but you get the drift

Yesterday was three lovely miles on the treadmill after some light ab work.  I actually mean that!  Lovely lovely!  I could have kept going if I didn't have barbecue and Edy's Light (Samoas flavored) at home and a snow day to plan for.  Why is it that 9 on Sunday was torturous from the very first footfall, but 3 today was quick and lively and light as air?

Seen below: my first-ever pair of running tights, purchased at Marathon Sports in Cambridge in 1998? 1999?  A long time ago.  They were quite a splurge back then.  I'm happy to report back to my undergraduate self that she got her money's worth out of them.  I'd also like to tell her that she doesn't actually need to hand wash them, no matter what the instructions say.  All that the washer/dryer combo has done to them is to wear off the reflective dots, but I just don't go running in them at night and it's all good.  I have other messages for her, but they're not blog appropriate.  And they would have to read like old school newspaper advice columns: "Confidential to College Tracy in PVD: Don't be that guy.  Don't ever be that guy."
Anyway... the tights have held up in other ways, too.  On our most recent run together last Friday, compliments I got included two "God bless you"s, one "Hallelujah!", one wide-eyed, smiling "Wow!", one "She's really cute," several men offering to come and run with me, two men faking that they were going to run with me for ca. half a block, three instances of unintelligible and/or Spanish statements that ended with "yeah, mami", and more lecherous looks than I could count.  Trust me - TRUST ME - I don't deserve such lavish praise.  I thank the tights for it.

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