May 11, 2012

• Running Thoughts

  Yesterday, I stopped at a shoe store to find a replacement for a well loved pair of shoes. I have had them for about 3 years and use them for my more “rugged” outings (my family members are laughing at that use of “rugged,” for sure), so they have worn out on the faster side.  I wanted the same brand and a similar style. They had ONE pair of exactly what I wanted, in MY size on the CLEARANCE rack. Boo-yah! When does that ever happen? And do you want to hear the best part? I also happened to have a coupon in my purse for a free tote bag with purchase of $30, which I spent a tad more than on my new kicks. Do I need the new bag? Probably not, but it’s freeeeeeeeeeee! Nice.

  This morning I went for a run, using an app on my phone that tells me my distance, pace, etc. (I have detailed on the blog before that I am perhaps the most high maintenance runner who ever existed. I own my crazy, if nothing else.) Anyway, that sucker was all out of whack today. I had definitely not gone a mile when the automated voice congratulated me on my less-than-10-minute mile, part of which I had walked as a warm up. I was wondering what my automated running coach was up to on this fine morning. Trickery to get me to run more? Or faster? I tried to ignore her, because I have run this very basic route before, many times. But part of me wanted to believe the awesome stats she was throwing my way. In retrospect, I’m wondering if she has been lying to me for months, and I haven’t been running as far or as fast as I think I have. However, using my other skills – such as common sense and reading a watch – I do believe she has just started to fail me now. Must be time for an update in the app store. So, as I was running and listening to my tunes, I was also thinking all these wackadoo thoughts about my running app. Which is perhaps why I nearly screamed in terror when a gardener stepped out of the bushes across from the elementary school.

  There was a very large, obvious truck parked on the side of the road, with a big tarp of mulch behind it.  There was rustling in the bushes. I should have realized someone was working in there. But all of a sudden, two hands filled with mulch protruded onto the sidewalk in front of me, and as my hand went to my heart in a dramatic response, the rest of the man’s body stepped onto the sidewalk beside me. I laughed as he apologized, and his co-worker got a huge kick out of the whole scene, laughing more at the other guy than at me. At least that’s the version I’m telling. I think he said something like, “Hey! You got one!” (I do not blame the mulch guys for wanting to mess with the suburbanites out exercising in all our high maintenance glory.)

  I can’t tell you how many times I hear, “I saw you running!” these days. Maybe now someone will say, “I saw you nearly have a heart attack when the mulch guy came out of the bushes!” Variety is the spice of life, you know.

  Right now, I am suffering from a case of yard sale denial. We are supposed to be participating in the community yard sale tomorrow, but I have done pretty much nothing to prepare. We did the one in the fall and made some decent cash, so we were planning to skip this one. But now that our garage is so messy that it includes everything AND the (old) kitchen sink, it seems like a wise choice to drag some of the crap onto the driveway and see who wants it. I may even be willing to pay the customers to get them to haul stuff out of the garage. Do you think that’s a sound business plan?

  I just finished eating lunch in our sunroom. The foliage in the yard has come along enough that I cannot tell from here which adjacent yard is having some work done on its deck. I keep hearing power tools and wood and screws and such, but I see nothing around me. Am I going insane? One would think the noise would be coming from the (scaled back) farm in the yard behind us, but I don’t think it is. Hmmm. Also, birds keep flying into the closed windows of this room. This is definitely not a testament to my window cleaning skills, by the way.  I’m thinking that there may be a tendency toward bird suicide in the area. Maybe they just can’t take the pressures of being a bird in the Bubble.

  On that note….later, gators. Have a great Mother’s Day if you’re a mother, which most of you are. I know my audience. 

  • 1:58 pm
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