I've started reading a lot of running blogs lately, and I swear one of these days I'm going to start pounding pavement again. Maybe I'll even tready it up tonight before class. Yeah...and if a frog had wings it wouldn't bump its @$$ when it hopped (brownie points if you can name the movie sans Google aid).
I love this part of my relationship with running...it's that phase where I forget all the reasons I hate running and start thinking it's this glorious, mind-blowing, enlightened activity which, if I manage to stick it out long enough, will wrap me in its warmth and whisper all of life's secrets in my eagerly awaiting ear. I get new shoes (check), new socks (check), maybe even a gym membership (check) and I wait for The Perfect Day on which to rejoin the fold of Runners Everywhere. (You know the day...sunny, mid-60s...body well-rested, well-fueled, and well-hydrated...sidewalks free from snow and debris, early enough in the season not to risk dodging dogs, children, and idiot drivers...mmmm...) Maybe that perfect day is tomorrow. It won't be Friday, since we're supposed to get snow. But every Perfect Day seems to be tomorrow, or in half an hour, or after dinner or or or.
In the end, one of two things happens...either I keep finding reasons why today is not TPD, or I finally settle for a day that's good enough (but never perfect...though sometimes I only decide that post-epic-run-fail) and go about a mile (maybe two) before coming back deflated, dragging myself back down the driveway, and cursing the lion who forced the first human to decide that running would be a good idea.
But then again, I could use a little endorphin-induced enlightenment today...