On Friday, the temperature was in the single digits, and this stubborn kid refused to drive up to UVM and gallivant on the dread-mill (fellow Rookie blogger, Shane Beam, introduced me to that fun nickname). My run was only three miles, and if I did my outdoor-running-pace of 9:30 minutes per mile, I would probably make it home in under 30 minutes, which was the time winter advisory considered, “risk to damaging exposure.” In turn, I layered up and headed into the frigid air.
I’ve been sincerely attempting to master Green Mountain Rehab-Andy’s recommended “shuffle run,” as I try to incorporate it into the shorter trainings stints. Well, anyone who runs around Burlington knows that the sidewalks do not make for the most level running environment, and when you are attempting to run “more efficiently” as the “shuffle run” aims to do, you are not lifting your feet very high above the ground.
Unfortunately, this kid officially ate it hard for the first time. My toe caught a slightly elevated block of pavement, and I bounded once and then twice – arms flailing in an attempt to grab that oh-so-supportive nothing, and then I went face down onto the pavement, and literally slid for a good foot. Something kind of like this kid:
(in an effort to feel better about my silly stumble, I searched “running fail”; readers, you MUST do this sometime).
As you recall, this was a frigid run. Thus, I was wearing fleece pants over leggings, a fleece jacket over a running jacket over a running shirt, and gloves with these grippy bobbles all along the palm. I paused for a moment, face down in the icy-salty-dirt to assess the damage and realized I was perfectly/miraculously unscathed. I said to myself, “well, that just happened”, got up, and continued on. The most unfortunate part was that I was on a side street where no one was able to witness what must have been a pretty ridiculous looking tumble; I hate when my silliness goes to waste.
As I resumed my run, I couldn’t help but think how totally ridiculous I must have looked when I ate it. Meanwhile, I turned my head to the side, and shot a masterful snot rocket – the cold gets my snot glands in overdrive (Are snot glands a thing? They have to be). And then, I used the back of my hand to wipe away the tears, which were not from the tumble; my eyes often water when I run. Finally it occurred to me (probably with about a half mile left) – running makes me pretty dead sexy.
Top five reasons I know running scores me points with the boys:
5. Spandex; ‘nough said.
4. A consistently runny nose (I affectionately call it “my faucet nose”) and the tearing eyes.
3. Mastering and regularly using the snot rocket – an essential skill for any dead sexy runner (I’ve realized that sometimes my throat blocks up, preventing the full on blow – is that a hydration thing? Any tips are warmly welcomed.)
2. SO MUCH SWEAT!
1. Publishing all of these sexy features to The RunVermont Blog!
Just more proof that we run for ourselves. Continue to sweat it up readers, and please feel free to share other ways we are dead sexy. This was a quick list, formulated in a half mile that followed a slightly traumatic event.
Yours in hotness,