A fitness-y friend of mine (hi, G) had a particularly (in said friend’s mind) disappointing workout and subliminally expressed so. In my altruistically inclined heart, I sent and email – diary log - with my (actual) disappointing tempo run, but with a different perspective. Said friend didn’t read the email, so I had a great idea to slightly edit and make the masterpiece a blog post.
After having the privilege of spending an extended length of time with my grandmother, who must use a walker (she call her Harley) I’ve relearned a valuable lesson – the ability to move at liberty is a blessing to not be taken lightly or critically.
With that said, I’ll now blog an occasional diary of my uncommon running events, starting with Tuesday, February 19th. Please excuse my run-on sentences, fragments and other grammar errors…hey, it’s my diary.
Entry 2-19-09 – tempo run with a target of 1 mile warm-up, 4 miles at an average pace 8:15-8:30, 1 mile cool-down for a total of 6 miles.
After a heated internal debate I elect to run with music and not take a water bottle…hindsight says “big mistake”.
Mile 1 - easy warm-up, Rosco chased two pickups that were over a mile away. I had to round him up. Total mileage 1.25
Mile 2 – found my groove, pace; total mileage 2.25
Mile 3 – crested the final hill before turnaround #1 to find cattle out, 1 bull (angry or amorous, I didn’t bother to ask); had to, again, round-up Rosco, then trot back to known mile marker to restart mile 3 and alter route; total mileage 3
Mile 3 redux – back in the groove, ; total mileage 4
Mile 4 – ear buds start to skip and omit crucial music; I slow down to evaluate; can’t find Rosco; ditch full of tumble weeds starts to gesticulate; Rosco is after something; short prayer - hope it’s not a skunk; I want water; in vain I jerk ear bud connection from Zune, toss into ditch; note to self: nice move, Brent; finally find Rosco; smell Rosco; short prayer of thanks; at this point I scrub the watch and just hope to finish; total mileage 5.25
Mile 5 – at turnaround #2 Rosco is foaming at the mouth and trying to stop me for a drink of water, which I don’t have; stop to pickup ear buds from ditch; all the sudden a horrible rotten smell overcomes me; Rosco smells it too and makes a b-line; spot a dead, half decomposed coyote; Rosco wants to play, I persuade him differently, another quick prayer of thanks; total mileage 6.5
Mile 6 – cool-down, jackrabbit pops up and Rosco is off to the races; I give up on stopping him because he’s so pooped he can’t run very fast, I swear the jackrabbit is looking over its shoulder just taunting. I crack up and realize this was a great run. Total mileage 7.5
And…most importantly...my workout didn’t get the upperhand. I finished.