It's too cold. It's not Minnesota cold, but it's colder than I like. Every year about this time, Wifey and I wonder just why we could not emigrate to Florida or Hawaii. We scan the job listings for Honolulu and Orlando, get excited when we find something, and then lose hope when we scan the real estate ads. The fact of the matter is that, economically speaking, we live in just about the perfect place for us. Anywhere else, I would either make less, the cost of living would be higher, or some combination yielding the net result of us having less cash in our pockets. What does this have to do with running? Nothing really. I was just complaining about the weather, and I feel that I am stuck with it. This must be why so many Russian novels are so depressing.
Last night, I added four miles to my 2007 mileage bucket. I am closing in on the pace bunny. Maybe next week, I will overtake my lapine nemesis. What was interesting about last night was how incredibly long the lines were for treadmills at the YMCA. They had a 45 minute limit [*cough* ~oops~ *cough*] and a sign-up list, and people were still queued up. Every so often, one of the staff would walk behind us with a clip board, I assume to check on how much time we had remaining. It was kind of annoying, but not as annoying as waiting to get on a treadmill. I had to wait too, so I lifted some weights and worked on my "core." I had a gross-out moment when I coughed sometime around my third mile and a small piece of lung butter flew out onto the treadmill. I scrubbed it down when I was finished, but I felt like quite the pig. Porcine, you might say.
Tags:
No comments:
Post a Comment