This morning dawned bright and...wait. Overcast and dreary? Oh yes, that's more like the Boston I know and love! Still, I was undeterred! I had a haircut and highlights to get to! Errands to run! Toenails to paint! (I can't lie, a third toenail is starting to look downright sickly and needs some camouflage--stat.)
All these errands completed, and only one completely forgotten, I headed home to pack for tomorrow's week and a half trip to California. Instead, of course, I made an egg sandwich (whole wheat English muffin, two over easy eggs, a little mayo, and some pepperjack cheese), drank some milk, and commenced to clean my apartment.
An hour later, Jared showed up for the planned "10-mile" run. Given my lackluster performance of late, and his new love of my favorite Ponkapoag running trail, I convinced him to head down south for an 8.5 mile--we'd lap the trail twice to get the necessary mileage.
We ran fine through the first 3 miles, me with stiff knees, Jared with stiff knees (really, how old are we?)--and then...I announced...with due solemnity, to my charming and handsome companion, "Um, can I tell you something without you freaking out?" Head nod from Jared, questioning look in my direction. Eyes averted, I tried to laugh it off with a "ha, ha...I really need to crap." (Luckily not such a dire situation that it required a sprint to a pizzeria, but I didn't see myself lapping the trail another time in my current condition.)*
Luckily he took it all in stride...that is, until we saw the YMCA Camp along that way. Finding no one there, I did what any runner in the woods would do when faced with an empty building, with an unlocked door, through which the bathroom is easily visible.
In any event, Jared stood outside the building (on guard) while I used the facility, listening to the barking of what was surely a rabid St. Bernard (hopefully) chained up in another room, thinking to myself "This is how horror movies start..."
Eventually I bolted out of the abandoned YMCA Camp building, and we were off again, and shambling along the trail toward home. Within a half mile, we'd agreed that coffee and hot, cheesy pizza was a much better choice than running another 4 miles. (Good man.)
Addendum: Sometimes when I run, I wish I had my camera with me. The last run with Caitlin was one of those times, as the run drifted by the coastline of the harbor, and a lovely patch of multicolored tulips (which I personally view as the harbinger of spring).
*NOTE: Roommate Liz told me yesterday that her brother Chris, an NYC police officer, caught a female runner taking a crap in the park this week.
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