The First Run

In an effort to quit a most mephitic and nasty habit, I've recently announced to those near and dear that I'm going to run a half-marathon. This enterprise existing mostly in my own head had relatively little chance of execution. I decided to let the idea marinate. Thinking about running wasn't getting me any closer to fitness, nor had I made any attempt to quit smoking. So here I was, in the nascent stages preparing to think about thinking to run, a legend in my own mind, visualizing the finish line, as it were, without even having pushed off the starting block. Not one to explore the liminal grey areas in life, my decision-making pendulum swings from one extreme

to another: either smoke myself into oblivion, or, run a half marathon. Of course. Because this makes perfect sense in my imperfect brain.

Yesterday was my first run. I have a personal coach; her name is Tracy. I tried to bail on our run on three separate occasions throughout the afternoon. The best of the excuses was the impending rain which turned to an actual drizzle! I texted her from the relative comfort and shelter of my car. While smoking a cigarette. Tracy replied: "you are going to feel great afterwards". Damn her!

At 6pm sharp we trotted off into the darkness, as daylight savings ushers in the night as early as 4:50pm here in DC. She is already sweating. I didn't expect to sweat. At least not in November. I mean, just how hard must one run in order to work up a sweat while the sun isn't shining? Sheesh. Within five minutes I am perspiring. We are actually talking, too. My brain is telling my body that I am going to die and yet my body seemingly ignores it. Which is a very good thing. We did a good 30 minute run up Massachusetts Ave around Dupont Circle and up Embassy Row and turned on California and went back down Connecticut to Florida, then up Phelps and back down the Spanish Steps to Massachusetts and over to P Street where Tracy bribed with with a pumpkin spice Tangy-Sweet frozen yogurt.

Who says running isn't fun?

The best part was the jog back home downtown, watching the commuters bundle up in their scarves and trenchcoats while I ran free in shorts and a t-shirt. Free. Free. Free...