11.7 Miles Saturday + 3 More on Sunday = An Excuse for A Big, Cheesy Pizza

Having sweet-talked my beloved into logging some more miles with me--at least until DFMC is back on after the group run holiday hiatus--I was looking forward to getting in a solid long run on Saturday. We mapped out a long run,* just shy of 12 that would take us from our apartment, over the river to Boston, around the Public Garden and Common, past the Garden (Yeahh...C's!), over another bridge, past the Museum of Science (Mythical Creatures Exhibit looks pretty great, and now on my list of things to do), back to the river until Mass Ave, from Mass Ave to our street, then an additional little bump from home to Davis Square--ending us at 12 miles at the local Starbucks. Ah, bliss.
So here's what really happened.

After commenting on what looked to be a threatening and potentially rainy sky, Jared ventured onto the front stoop to take a quick temperature read--relatively balmy. Clad in capri tights, a non-turtleneck Under Armour, sneaks, and fuel belt loaded with Gu, I scampered out behind him.

Within a block or two, a light sprinkling of cold rain began sluicing onto us. By the Mass Ave bridge, we were talking science, and barely noticed the increase of water streaming from a gray and ever more ominous-looking sky. At the Garden, we ventured a look up at what had become a steady downfall, and commented on the likeliness of it abating soon.

By the Museum of Science, we'd settled into a comfortable pace, running easy and smooth despite the still heavy rain. Despite teasingly commenting--multiple times--that he must love me a lot to be out there in those conditions--Jared seemed to be enjoying our gliding gait along the chilled, windy river.

As we reached Mass Ave for the last long leg of our run (about 3.5 miles to go), the rain picked up in intensity. Abandoning all pretense of avoiding puddles in our entirely too sodden state, we began racing for home, striding past MIT and Central Square, bolting around the few raincoat-clad pedestrians near Harvard, dashing across streets, and sloshing through the deepening puddles along sidewalks, street corners--with nary a single other runner spied.

With a mile to go, Jared pointed out what I'd been refusing to admit to myself--that if we ran to the Starbucks, we'd either end up walking home in the cold, heavy rain, or running with our coffees in hand, always a little awkward.** I agreed and suggested that we run to Rindge Ave, a couple blocks past our apartment, then back home, to get into the necessary distance.

As we neared the corner of our street, I realized that one more block wouldn't quite get us to 12. I mentioned this to Jared, who merely looked at me, water streaming down one side of his nose, unchecked by a drenched bandanna. We arrived home after our trip to Rindge and back (discretion did seem the better part of valor here--after all, the man did run more than eleven and a half miles with me in the rain, a week after running 9 in a blizzard on his own birthday). Despite our sodden shoes and clothing, we couldn't help but laugh out our own state, and at the elation of having had a good run in poor conditions.

An easy 3 today helped to ease out most lingering aches and pains, and we are both convinced that a pizza tonight should dispel the rest.

*Note: This was the route we'd attempted to do last week, in the midst of a blizzard, before ultimately crapping out at around 9 miles.
**But known to happen, with coffee, apple cider, ice cream, and once, two pizzas.