I’m a walking phonebooth at mile 2.3

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My awesome toe socks. Vibram might be going down, but these socks work great for keeping my toes from blistering up.

Sort of a weird run.  We’ll get to that in a minute.

Mile 1, 0:9:07 pace:  Started off a bit faster than I did yesterday.  I didn’t do this conscientiously.  I just felt good enough to run a bit faster.  The weather has been overcast, so maybe I was just in a good mood.  I just felt strong and good.  My hamstrings (both) were immediately aware that I was running.

Mile 2, 0:8:43 pace:  I have already settled into a good pace, by now.  I’m feeling strong, my breathing is even and I notice that the river is just not so pleasant to look at, these days, because it’s low.  Green, slimy stuff has taken over.  We really need more water this coming year.  Pray for snow pack.

Mile 3, 0:8:30 pace:  I feel great (sans hammies) and push just a bit, only because it feels good to.  Here’s where the run gets weird.  A guy stops me at the end of the trail, right before I can turn to head to the park for my turnaround.  Asks if he can borrow my phone.  I hesitate but relent, because…I vote democratic, sometimes?  Because I’m LDS and want to be charitable?  Because, it turns out, I’m a pushover.  He chit-chats about nothing for almost FOUR minutes, while I plan his imminent demise.  There’s no one around and if I hang up his call first, there will be no witnesses.  I’d push him into the river, but it’s too low to really accomplish my goal, so instead I stand there like an idiot, while I hear short phrases like:

“…Provo” (Is he saying where he is?)
“…Nelson” (Surely this has nothing to do with me.)

and finally

“…a runner…I…I gotta go.”

He spent most of his time just listening to the other end of the convo.  I couldn’t help but notice that what little I could hear on the other end of the phone matched his voice.  His dad?  A brother?  No idea.  Hopefully not someone so dimwitted as to stop a runner for a non-emergency.  The next time this happens, I’ll ask “Is this an emergency?”

Mile 4, 0:8:25:  After I got my phone back, I slipped it back on my waist and started running.  Too fast.  I was a bit angry and felt that I’d missed time (I hadn’t, because I’d at least stopped my watch for this non-essential reunion, which I’d facilitated).  So I look down at my watch and I’m at 0:7:40.  No good.  Too fast for a recovery.  Out loud I admonish myself, “Slow down, slow down…”  I click off this mile, still trying to figure out why I handed my phone to this guy.

Mile 5, 0:8:23:  My hamstrings are somewhat hurting, so I make the decision to skip a run on Thursday.  Maybe a short run on Friday and a long on Saturday.  Who knows.  I change my mind so easily that it makes it hard to plan.  I arrive home, where Roxie gives me a big, long hug and I’m ready to start my day.

5 miles, 0:43:21, 0:8:37 avg pace.  0:46:57 if you count phone call time.

 

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