As always, it is much, MUCH better to have run than to be going to run.
High school kids are idiots. Or maybe it’s stoners who are idiots. (Do they still call them “stoners?” How about “potheads?” I might be dating myself, but that ship has no doubt sailed so many times before it looks like a damn ferry.)
Coming past the Catholic high school with the football field lit up so you can see it from space. The baseball field is between the street and the football field. Between the baseball field and the sidewalk is a dark pool, the blinding lights blocked by the third base dugout. In that spot, hidden only by shadows but otherwise clearly visible to the street and sidewalk traffic, sit a half dozen kids, lighting up.
Do they really, REALLY think that no one sees them? That no one sees the glowing embers being passed from person to person, even though they’re trying to cup their hands around them? Do they really, REALLY think that no one can smell it? Hell, I smelled them all the way down turning the corner from Woodlake, two blocks away! Finally, if I can see and smell them, do they think that no one in the rectory house at their Catholic high school can smell them, FIFTY FREAKIN’ YARDS AWAY next to the first base dugout?
It was a mystery to me as I jogged past, but I decided not to call them out or wave at them as I went by. Mainly because the best explanation that I had for the data was that it wasn’t just high school kids, but the priests out there too.
2.69 miles in 40:34 is a decent 15:04 pace for a first outing in months and months and months.
I’m just now getting to the 24-hour mark where my thighs and ankles have recovered from the shock and have joined forces to make every act of cellular mitosis a little slice of hell. It will be better tomorrow, and vital that I get at least some running in again tomorrow or Friday, but for now, going down a flight of stairs in hard-soled dress shoes is on a par with waterboarding.
You have a lot of time to think about things while running, and I did. But I just realized that not once in that 40:34 did I think about national politics. If that’s not an incentive to lace up the shoes again on a regular basis, I don’t know what is.