Today I actually got up before my alarm (this is not the norm - actually it's not the norm for ne to even get up WITH my alarm in recent days...) at 6:11 a.m.. I knew I had an action packed day ahead and saw this, at first, as an opportunity to welch on my running commitment. Who would know? Oh THAT'S right - everyone I blabbed to that I've started running would know, Andrea would certainly know when she didn't receive a sweaty, pink post-run face picture text today, and ultimately I would know when, in just 32 short days, I am doubled over on the side of the road and all the other Warrior Dashers are blazing past me with looks of pity and mocking in their eyes. I put my feet on the floor, grabbed my running clothes and headed out to the living room so as not to wake the hubs and kiddos. It was peaceful and I was relishing a few moments of quiet bliss before braving Day Two.
Much to my surprise (utter shock, is probably a better term), I felt great! Minimal creaking and crepitus, no muscle spasms that dropped me to the floor, and I slept like a baby. Cautiously optimistic, I was encouraged that this whole running thing might just work out after all. IPod in place, and I'm off!
I decide to retrace my route from yesterday since I am new to running and the aftermath of what my body will do for at least the first few days. I reassure myself I will enjoy the predictability of where I'm running today and know what to expect when along the way. Out of the neighborhood, first turn out, I encounter something I didn't expect but probably should have.
Slug Alley. This is what I have dubbed a stretch of sidewalk along my route that had the single largest population of slugs I think I have ever seen this morning. Gross, garden destroying, toe sliming critters littered the sidewalk. In Jersey we don't have slugs. OK - we probably have them, but not in plague-like proportions like we do here. Either that or they hid from view in order to avoid us riding over them with our banana seat Huffy bikes like we did to their earthworm cohorts after rainstorms (Yes - we were evil children. Twenty bucks says YOU'VE poured salt on a slug or toasted an ant with a magnifying glass at least ONCE in your day...). Wanting to keep my sneakers (Yes - that's what we call 'em in Jersey) free from slug guts, I dodged them all, sparing every mucous coated little body in my path. Then, almost as if to declare, "SLUGS ARE COOL!", one long and roly-poly fella stood up. Naturally not on two feet, but straightened about two-thirds of his grotesque vermiform shape up off the sidewalk. Then he sat there like that for about 10 seconds, just waving his little antennae at me for spite. Clearly he was more fit than I was to be able to accomplish such a feat of physicality, and he was sticking it to me. Point taken - the slugs have just as much right to party on the sidewalk in the morning just as much as I have the right to run there. I stopped for a second to try to get a picture of him on my phone, but as soon as I got the camera ready, the slug laid back down, further enunciating his coolness by denying me a picture. Touche, my little filthy friend, touche. We will meet again tomorrow...
Onward and upward (literally) to the long, gradual incline of the hill. Everytime I've driven this hill, which is nearly every school morning for 7 years, I've neglected to recognize it's actual rise. Nothing for a car, maybe even a bike, but for a newbie Grandpa runner like me, it was a force to be reckoned with. I made it further than I did yesterday before I had to stop for a breather, but I only stopped for 30 seconds this time, and pressed on. A new personal (albeit small) victory!
Running in the morning is a different experience than running in the afternoon, as I did yesterday. The kids are all locked up in their respective educational institutions, a lot of folks are off to work, and the residential roads are fairly quiet. The morning is a hustle and bustle of cars and buses and kids and commuters - and for some odd reason I feel compelled to represent the runners of the world by putting on a happy face and even saying, "Good Morning!". Why? It's like this weird inner sense of duty that makes me want to make other people think that running isn't so bad. "Come join us! Look how happy we runners are! We're all lovin' the Kool-Aid!". As I greet these strangers with a cheery wave, a smile, and even a "Hello!", I wonder if I can even be called a "runner" yet. I mean it's only Day Two of Grandpa running and I'm already feeling like I'm representing some group of exercise fanatics to the general population. Seriously? I think I'm taking my obligation to the pubic and the running world too seriously. Day Three I return to just being a sweaty, Grandpa runner, who will probably wave and smile at you along the road JUST because I'm friendly, NOT as any kind of representative for runners of the planet - I think. Did I not mention we would tour my neuroses on this journey? ;) See you on the road!
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