I’m sorry I spit on your dog…
…but at least she is nice and furry so it froze to fur, not skin, on this cold morning with a wind chill of 15 degrees. I can’t feel too bad about that temperature, however, as this afternoon it is 17 degrees with a feel like of 1 in downtown Chicago, where my son is probably questioning what the hell he is doing. Certainly you can write code in Hawaii or Florida.
I’ve hooked up with a new running group! I just started last week. This week’s workout popped up in my inbox:
W/U
4 strides
15 min tempo
4 amphitheater hills
C/D
This is very sweet and I find it encouraging that anyone thinks I have more than one pace right now, not that I care. I’m running. I don’t give one spit how fast or slow at this point. And – I finally got cold weather bragging rights, all these winter days I’ve sat inside, jealous of others running and posting pics of their eyelashes glistening white with ice.
Sadly, my eyelashes did not freeze this morning. Although I don’t really want my eyelashes to freeze, I do want the bragging rights and hold hope it could still happen.
The *ahem* “warm up” consisted of plowing up a hill into the biting wind so I hit 90% HR by 1/2 mile. That’s OK, I’m good, walk a little recovery and start again. And again, and again, and every day in every way I’m getting better and better.
I ran in the cold and I liked it (I liked iii-it) except I got a bit phlegm-y. While we stood around deciding which way to go (since the wind was bogarting 90% of any possible direction), I did what any good runner would do and spit a loogie. It had a nice arc and distance – and impeccable timing, as just then furry black Quianna ran past.
“Did you just spit on the dog?” asked my friend.
“Yeah, I think I did,” I replied, patting around trying to find it and wipe her off, but I couldn’t find it in the dark on the black dog.
I happily finished five miles and headed to the cars with the group. Lucia walked by with Quianna. There was my frozen spit shining on her fur, glistening in the rising sun.
“Is that your spit frozen on my dog?” asked Lucia.
I tried to rub it off but it was frozen fast. “That’s OK, she’ll probably jump in the lake anyway,” Lucia said, and sure enough, she did. I guess dogs don’t bother getting all worked up over weather.com, they just take it as it comes and figure there’s a warm blanket waiting for them.
Since I didn’t get enough of all that, I headed to Killer’s for a workout, where my training buddy and I both had just enough energy to spit and not much else. It was ugly, but we got it done and then I headed to Lucia’s for a session.
The producers of Biofreeze have asked me to extend their sincere thanks to Killer and Lucia. I shall now liberally apply a third layer of Biofeeze and limp off to the couch for a much-needed nap. I leave you with the picture of my friend’s shoes which will probably be much less jolly when they find out that despite her neatly (OCD) lining them up as though waiting for another run they’re all actually going to the donation bucket. Always be sure your shoes are happy, no matter where they’re going.
Run. Dog. Cat. Cat. Me. 