Tuesday’s fantastical speed workout had a bit of a backlash. My knees, which had been on the mend from my own case of runningtoomuchitis, rebelled a bit with some wicked tightness and pain. My response, oddly rational, has been to lay off and hit the pool.
There’s not much I can write about aquajogging. Actually, there is, but I’m too irritated about writing it now. So we’ll write it on a day I’m feeling very benevolent towards the activity. In the meantime, I think I’m going to hit up a 5K in my old stomping grounds Sunday evening. It’s hosted by Fitzgerald’s 1928, where I watched the vice-presidential debate and, two months later, got shitfaced on scotch whiskey. So I have very fond memories of the place.
The only annoying thing is that the race starts at 5 p.m., which gives me plenty of time to kvetch myself out of running. Ah well. Vamos a ver!