It’s days like today that offer a reminder that, for a runner, the line between discipline and mental illness can be mighty thin.
The skies were dumping rain drops by the bucketful, but the schedule called for 8. The schedule, as we all know, must be obeyed.
At least I was not the only whacked-out runner in Kansas City this morning. In fact, there were several hundred of us.
Pulling into the parking lot for a group run, a couple dozen compatriots in some of the early pace groups already were heading out to the Indian Creek Trail in one of the southern suburbs of the Kansas City area.
Jeff, who just joined the group this year, arrived and said he was surprised to see so many people show up in such questionable weather. Do they ever cancel? He asked.
Not unless bolts of lightning are bombarding the runners or some other situation is threatening everyone’s safety would Eladio, the leader of the group, call off our Saturday morning treks.
So, it was a good day for a run. Good, if you like downpours, wind that got a bit chilly toward the end and a trail that became increasingly saturated with pools of water and mud.
Early on I attempted the dainty dancing of tiptoeing or swinging wide around the puddles coming from an overflowing Indian Creek onto the trail. Eventually, though, splish, splash, splish and my feet were waterlogged.
Not too big a deal, but the extra weight probably brought a little extra pounding on my knees, ankles and goofy size 12s.
The rainy weather this week claimed two of our family’s swimming outings, a planned trip to an amusement park and a scheduled double-header for my son’s Little League team.
But I strapped on my snorkel, swim fins and logged eight miles to finish the week with 19.38 miles.
The skies were dumping rain drops by the bucketful, but the schedule called for 8. The schedule, as we all know, must be obeyed.
At least I was not the only whacked-out runner in Kansas City this morning. In fact, there were several hundred of us.
Pulling into the parking lot for a group run, a couple dozen compatriots in some of the early pace groups already were heading out to the Indian Creek Trail in one of the southern suburbs of the Kansas City area.
Jeff, who just joined the group this year, arrived and said he was surprised to see so many people show up in such questionable weather. Do they ever cancel? He asked.
Not unless bolts of lightning are bombarding the runners or some other situation is threatening everyone’s safety would Eladio, the leader of the group, call off our Saturday morning treks.
So, it was a good day for a run. Good, if you like downpours, wind that got a bit chilly toward the end and a trail that became increasingly saturated with pools of water and mud.
Early on I attempted the dainty dancing of tiptoeing or swinging wide around the puddles coming from an overflowing Indian Creek onto the trail. Eventually, though, splish, splash, splish and my feet were waterlogged.
Not too big a deal, but the extra weight probably brought a little extra pounding on my knees, ankles and goofy size 12s.
The rainy weather this week claimed two of our family’s swimming outings, a planned trip to an amusement park and a scheduled double-header for my son’s Little League team.
But I strapped on my snorkel, swim fins and logged eight miles to finish the week with 19.38 miles.
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