If you tell my college roommates, I’ll deny it.
Today, I – involuntarily, and possibly accidentally, I’ll say – let out a scream of “C’mon! Pound those guys!” while watching a certain basketball game that was determining the final participant in the Final Four.
My encouragement was for the team in white.
Back in the day, my college days, while living in our apartment – in Columbia, Missouri – we eagerly anticipated the chance to walk across campus and see the epic battles between our mighty Tigers and those prairie chickens, er, Jayhawks from the other side of the state line in Kansas.
Due to some unforeseen circumstances, I didn’t have a team to root for in this year’s tournament. I’ve always liked Roy Williams (again, if you tell my boys from the college days, I’ll deny that too), and I like the ACC hoops tradition, so I had been rooting for Carolina.
But this afternoon, especially during the final 16 seconds, I was cheering, actually shouting, for those guys from Lawrence. They look good. Self seems like a good guy. I think they might do it.
If they do, and if anybody should claim I was excited, or even happy, about the prospect, I’ll deny it.
Sunday, March 30, 2008
Who wears short shorts?
I do, that’s who.
As I was suiting up for my Saturday morning long run, I picked up my tights in one hand and my shorts in the other. Dropped those tights right on the carpet of the closet.
When I bop out the door for a run, it’s not about the fashion. One glance would confirm that. A windbreaker came off the sale rack. I’m down to two mismatched cloth gloves -- one blue, one green and one with a huge hole in the pinky finger (somehow I lost one member of the matching pair and I just didn’t want to buy a new set so late in the season). Thought about wearing only the green glove, but that seemed too much like a Michael Jackson kind of deal and who needs that weirdness?
So it wasn’t about fashion, but I definitely was making a statement Saturday.
It’s time for Spring to arrive. The calendar says so. I say so. So rather than giving into the early morning chilliness, I just decided to pretend it was a balmy day of the newly arrived season. Kind of a mind over matter thing.
Granted, I was one of the few, the proud (the crazy?) to show up in the group clad in shorts, but I took pride in it.
The temps were in the 40s. Low 40s, mind you, but that was good enough. I didn’t completely freeze off my patoot. Plus, as my bare legs covered the 10 miles, it made me think of the sunny days ahead.
As I was suiting up for my Saturday morning long run, I picked up my tights in one hand and my shorts in the other. Dropped those tights right on the carpet of the closet.
When I bop out the door for a run, it’s not about the fashion. One glance would confirm that. A windbreaker came off the sale rack. I’m down to two mismatched cloth gloves -- one blue, one green and one with a huge hole in the pinky finger (somehow I lost one member of the matching pair and I just didn’t want to buy a new set so late in the season). Thought about wearing only the green glove, but that seemed too much like a Michael Jackson kind of deal and who needs that weirdness?
So it wasn’t about fashion, but I definitely was making a statement Saturday.
It’s time for Spring to arrive. The calendar says so. I say so. So rather than giving into the early morning chilliness, I just decided to pretend it was a balmy day of the newly arrived season. Kind of a mind over matter thing.
Granted, I was one of the few, the proud (the crazy?) to show up in the group clad in shorts, but I took pride in it.
The temps were in the 40s. Low 40s, mind you, but that was good enough. I didn’t completely freeze off my patoot. Plus, as my bare legs covered the 10 miles, it made me think of the sunny days ahead.
Sunday, March 16, 2008
Keeping up
Good morning, Mr. Lactic Acid.
You hurt so good.
Haven’t felt you zapping my muscles for a while. I’ve been running quite a bit lately. But yesterday, I had a real workout.
Met up with my Saturday morning running group as usual. Winter had to get at least one last blast in. As I was driving to the course, snowflakes nearly the size of my palm were flying at my windshield.
It seemed kind of chilly at the start, but after we started running the skies cleared, the temperature rose a bit and it was an awesome morning. A truly beautiful day for a run.
The group was much smaller than usual. Might have been the weather. It certainly looked worse than it turned out to be. We also have a highly popular St. Patrick’s Day run around these parts. Hmm, let’s see: go for a long run out in the boonies in what looks like a blizzard or gather in Westport with thousands of enthusiastic runners, dash for a 5K and then drink beer….hmmm, what to do, what to do?
I took off with my normal pace group, but a fellow participant I had run with before seemed to be edging out in front. I just hung with her and chatted. Within a mile or so, we had left the group behind. We warmed up with a 9:40 and a 9:39, but then proceeded to fire off a few miles in less than 8:30 each.
The course had some good-sized rolling hills, but we just attacked them. We did our last of the 10 miles in 8:33.
I had to dash in the car, get home, shower and then the Oz family hit the road for a daytrip into mid-Missouri. The lack of post-run stretching and then sitting in a car for several hours probably has a lot to do with the slight muscle soreness I am feeling today. No biggie, though. It actually feels good.
Immediately after the run I told my partner that as she edged away from the pace group I was just sticking with her. She looked incredulous and said she thought I was amping up our pace. We both laughed. Not sure who exactly was responsible, but it was a great run.
You hurt so good.
Haven’t felt you zapping my muscles for a while. I’ve been running quite a bit lately. But yesterday, I had a real workout.
Met up with my Saturday morning running group as usual. Winter had to get at least one last blast in. As I was driving to the course, snowflakes nearly the size of my palm were flying at my windshield.
It seemed kind of chilly at the start, but after we started running the skies cleared, the temperature rose a bit and it was an awesome morning. A truly beautiful day for a run.
The group was much smaller than usual. Might have been the weather. It certainly looked worse than it turned out to be. We also have a highly popular St. Patrick’s Day run around these parts. Hmm, let’s see: go for a long run out in the boonies in what looks like a blizzard or gather in Westport with thousands of enthusiastic runners, dash for a 5K and then drink beer….hmmm, what to do, what to do?
I took off with my normal pace group, but a fellow participant I had run with before seemed to be edging out in front. I just hung with her and chatted. Within a mile or so, we had left the group behind. We warmed up with a 9:40 and a 9:39, but then proceeded to fire off a few miles in less than 8:30 each.
The course had some good-sized rolling hills, but we just attacked them. We did our last of the 10 miles in 8:33.
I had to dash in the car, get home, shower and then the Oz family hit the road for a daytrip into mid-Missouri. The lack of post-run stretching and then sitting in a car for several hours probably has a lot to do with the slight muscle soreness I am feeling today. No biggie, though. It actually feels good.
Immediately after the run I told my partner that as she edged away from the pace group I was just sticking with her. She looked incredulous and said she thought I was amping up our pace. We both laughed. Not sure who exactly was responsible, but it was a great run.
Tuesday, March 04, 2008
Visions of spring
I remember it now as if it were a dream.
The bright sun warmed me as I stepped out of the car. I unzipped my fleece and tossed it aside.
The light gloves and hat remained on, but I would shed those soon after beginning the run. Unzipping my wind jacket to let the breeze in also brought welcome relief.
What a glorious run it was. No thigh-numbing cold. The tips of my hair sticking out from under my hat did not freeze over with ice crystals. My cheeks did not sting.
I soaked it all in, every minute. Every mile. This morning, as my cheeks once again were stinging, my thighs were feeling the grip of the cold and I had to keep flexing my fingers to get the warm blood flowing, I thought about the promise of spring’s imminent arrival and my recent run on a bright, pleasant morning.
Now, it seems like it was a dream. But, really, it was only Saturday.
The bright sun warmed me as I stepped out of the car. I unzipped my fleece and tossed it aside.
The light gloves and hat remained on, but I would shed those soon after beginning the run. Unzipping my wind jacket to let the breeze in also brought welcome relief.
What a glorious run it was. No thigh-numbing cold. The tips of my hair sticking out from under my hat did not freeze over with ice crystals. My cheeks did not sting.
I soaked it all in, every minute. Every mile. This morning, as my cheeks once again were stinging, my thighs were feeling the grip of the cold and I had to keep flexing my fingers to get the warm blood flowing, I thought about the promise of spring’s imminent arrival and my recent run on a bright, pleasant morning.
Now, it seems like it was a dream. But, really, it was only Saturday.
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