No alarm in the morning. Luxuriate in the warm, soft sheets. Open eyes and see that you have slept for nine hours -- mmmmmmm. The house is quiet. Gently (and happily, easily) roll out of bed and shuffle into the kitchen. While nibbling the chocolate croissant purchased from the European bakery, read a bit of the newspaper online.
Make the decision to go back to Pratt Park. It's later than usual but the weather is cool and the sun is shining and you realize you'd be a fool not to take advantage of such a gift. Because the Weather Channel advises that it is 42°, two longsleeved technicals are put on. Out the door you go. Upon arriving at the park you realize you have left your key fob back at the house; this is an inconvenience because it means you must carry your key, the key that is situated between two Allen wrenches and blue foam tubing. Oh well, it is only a minor inconvenience after all. IPod hooked on to the waistband and large key contraption tucked into the waistband and off you go, rejoicing in the warmth of the sun and the cool breeze and the strength in your legs.
You look down to ensure that your key is in place only to find that your shirt is covering the key, which is pointed outward from your belly and makes it look very much like you are VERY happy to be outside. So as not to frighten other passersby, the placement of the key is adjusted and the shirt is tucked in. Better to have an odd key contraption jutting from your waistband than to have people think you are a sketchy tranny wandering the park.
Shortly after you begin the second lap you decide to try to run, an excellent decision as it happens. The wearing of two shirts, however, was not such an excellent decision and before you finish the lap you realize the outer shirt must come off. As you are incapable of performing this task on your own you espy an unsuspecting fellow runner stopped at a bench drinking her water and beg her assistance. She kindly complies and speeds off before another request can be made. Unburdened by the second shirt, the third lap is much enjoyed. Running in shade and downhill, walking the rest of the time -- lap number three flies by and a fourth lap is considered. Since you feel so strong you go for it and feel good the entire time. Where is this energy coming from? The extra sleep? The chocolate croissant? The single shirt? The 3.3 miles done two days earlier?
A question forms in your mind: do you get tired because you run so little, or do you run so little because you get tired? Perhaps more time outdoors is what's needed.
I am going to make a firm commitment to get out as often as I can. The beautiful thing about the winter is that it is not necessary to go out at the crack of dawn.
I hope everyone else is having as beautiful a day as am I.
Glad I'm not on the road!