RUNNING LIKE A FOOL

So there I am, relaxing with a belly full of pork fried rice (leftovers) and orange juice. (I know I know, yuck, but I didn't have them at the same time and I was too lazy to look for real food.) I was in the middle of Harry Potter's last book and there was no moving me away from it.

Ben comes home and I knew he would be going for a run. Now, let me back up a moment. I used to be a regular runner. Running is one of those things that is a great cross-training exercise. As a rower in college, we had our share of runs. We ran stadiums, towers, "Klines" (a road that seems nearly vertical in Ithaca NY), and the Plantations (again, another Ithaca / Cornell thing). I'm not the best runner. No ectomorph genes in the good old Martucci family. But I'm long and strong and if allowed to go slowly enough, I can go forever it seems. That was a while ago, however. Between an injury and wearing heels (I'm guessing here) the running kind of got replaced. I wish I could say it was replaced with another exercise, but sadly, it was replaced with inactivity. But in my mind, having run half marathons and whatnot, a 4 mile run seemed like a piece-o-cake. Seemed.

Ben says he's ready to leave and I decide to join him. Now, I know the distance, but what I didn't know was the path. The VERY FIRST obstacle within a tenth of a mile is a LARGE HILL. Here we go. "Man this stinks" my thought bubble hangs above my head. "Don't look up" I tell myself. "It's not even 2 minutes into this stinkin' run and I feel like I am going to suffer cardiac arrest" -- all thoughts I try to contain behind my labored breathing. We make it to the top of the hill and I am PRAYING the traffic light is red so that I may catch my breath. Lucky break.

We continue on a relatively flat area and then another stinkin' hill (!) This hill wasn't so steep, but it was annoying. I'm trying to keep my cadence with Ben's long strides. Trying to sound conversational as if my breath wasn't about to stop, I banter with Ben as he talks about his Dart league. At 1.5 miles he gives me the stats -- 11 minute mile. Oh man. NOT EVEN HALF WAY YET? I keep it up for another quarter of a mile and then decide to tell him to run on ahead and I'll meet him after he turns around. Run on, beautiful man, run on. Walking never felt so good.

On his return trip, I pick up my pace again and join him on the way back. It wasn't as hard. The hills were pretty much over and the flat stretches don't bother me much. We kept a 10 minute mile for a bit and it actually felt good as I lengthened my stide. As we neared the quarter-mile-to-go mark Ben asked if I had a "sprint kick" in me. Heck no -- have at it big boy!

So, this reality check was quite the bummer. I popped some glucosamine when I got home. Runners swear by it and say it helps your body mend. As of this writing, my knee is sore. But I'll try again. Time to make a habbit out of something good.

I'll catch you later!