Distance: 7.5 ish miles
Effort: Medium-hard. Note to self – Next run will be easy.
Extras: Before run, there was significant procrastination. After, even more.
I woke up today tired, sore, and not wanting to run. This is odd, because it wasn’t raining, it wasn’t 90 degrees, and I hadn’t planned any track. But, still, I messed around for more than an hour before lugging myself out the door, straight into rush hour traffic.
Which brings me to this story on an initiative by a nearby community of a police decoy standing in crosswalks, waiting for the inevitable slew of drivers not to yield to him. The cops hiding nearby subsequently issue tickets. Yesterday, the report says, 70 tickets were handed out.
A reader emailed us yesterday in outrage that police would ambush him in such a way. How dare police enforce the law! And during a recession.
My response then, and more so today, was – can you do that in my town too? I was certainly almost nailed by no fewer than four drivers today, most of them women, most of them making right-hand turns, most of them just terribly sorry that they nearly ran me over. It’s a hard world out there, y’all. And this is the suburbs.
Anyway, the better part of the run was the running part. I took off at a brisk pace and headed to a .75-mile long hill, which I pretty much hammered. Then I turned around and went home. Right now, I’m headed to the YMCA for some strength. I’m working under the assumption that lifting might help avert injuries.
boom boom segue
Back to the awesome Well blog. Today, Tara Parker-Pope posts a video with Mark Bittman (“The Minimalist” and author of my favorite cookbook), Mark Bittman’s daughter, Kate and Deena Kastor. Yeah. That Deena Kastor. The premise of the video is kind of silly: go for a run at a pace that feels like sleeping for Deena and feels like death for Mark, hit up a grocery store and cook a meal. But the end result is pretty charming and looks delicious: peppers, eggplant and farro. Once again, I decided I love Deena Kastor and want to grow up to be her. The reality, I admit, may be a little slower.