Oh sacred Starbucks, supplier of clean, large washrooms and tasty hot tea lattes I sang your praises today on the 26k odyssey of urban delight i.e. no freaking snowy trails of horror, just a long run across the city and back.
Went to start the run from the house today but, Alex, hearing me lament the fact that my sport sunglasses were in my bag at the office, mentioned that he had to swing by the office at some point today so he'd drive me over, I could get the glasses and head out from there.
It started snowing hard on the drive. By the time we got there the promised sunny blue sky day was deteriorating into something decidedly less perky. I considered doing the run, or a portion of it, on the office treadmill. Freudian slip there, I should have said the office gym treadmill, we all know the office treadmill doesn't exist - no one spends there time bored going nowhere with the view never changing in an office, do they? (bitterness sets in...) Where was I? Oh yeah. I was debating whether to jump on the dreadmill and slog out some or all of the workout. I farted around a bit changing designated pouch pocket assignments of sugar, kleenex, Starbucks' card, TTC token, key, cash, and inhaler. You'd think that I was heading for the steppes of Russia (east Toronto, hmm, not too far off). Well in that time the sun started to come out so I grabbed the gear and headed down to the street.
I exited the building, hit shuffle on the playlist and Bittersweet Symphony came on. The sun was shining, the day was ripe with possibility, and I looked awesome in my running gear. I felt like I was in a freaking Nike commerical.
Off I went. It wasn't too bad, not one of those transcendental runs when you begin to truly believe that the human race was built for running but definitely not an "I hate everyone and everything" run. Chindi was left at home as she just is too anxious running through strange neighbourhoods without the Alpha Male. Chindi doesn't get the whole Helen "I am woman, hear me roar" Reddy thing. Feminism seems to have missed the canine population.
Just as well as I couldn't have been constantly hitting up Starbucks if I had her in tow. My lovely, petite sized running tights from REI in Scottsdale needed constant applications of water to make them stick to my body. I got them last fall and considering my old ones had drawstrings (clearly a 20th century technology vs the new ones that are just supposed to "stick" to you) I was pretty happy for the upgrade. The problem is that I find I have to prime them with water on the waistband before I run, and, if, like today, I'm not particularly warm then there is nothing supplied by my own body for them to stick to. Hence 2 stops at Starbucks and one back at the office to prime the pump. Hmm, Prime the Pump, the new pioneer porno.
I also suspect, given my awesome 6 pound weight loss, that they might be on the large side.
So, loving the Starbucks. The last Buckstop, hahahahaha, was at the one the end of our street for what I have now decided is the perfect tea latte - tall, one pump each vanilla, hazelnut and cinnamon. Trust me. Heaven.
80 k right now seems like an impossiblity but Ironman was too, and look how that turned out. The thing is, I've been to the dark side of fear and anxiety and disbelieve in the power of my own mind and body. My reward for that journey was a finish line that showed me how awesome I truly am. The awesomeness was so thick that night that it's what really brought me in. I left some of my own for those for whom 17 hours and midnight really loomed. I accessed my awesome organ while I was out there (located just below the heart) and managed to actually negative split the out and back.
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