Broken Down
I had no expectations and I surely had no specific hopes for this run. Well, except that I always hope to not be miserable. Besides the fact that I had a lovely amount of dental work done this morning and my jaw was still feeling as though someone had sucker punched me, I just wanted this to be an easy 6 miles that I could record. As I started running one of two things either happened. 1. one of my enemies successfully put together a voodoo doll of me and decided at that moment to stick as many pins as they could into my legs or 2. someone was running an inverted dog collar with the spikes dipped in burning acid up and down my lower extremities. Whichever it was, it hurt like hell and I wasn't pleased.
As I reached mile marker three I realized that my legs no longer had the sharp, stabbing, burning pain in them which was a plus however, it was at this point that I realized everything on my lower half was just kinda numb. Hhmm, maybe my waistband that had been threatening me earlier had in fact, finally cut off the circulation to my legs. My breathing was fine, I wasn't working overly hard but my legs just felt, well, not totally into it. Think of those hookers you see in movies. No, not the cute likable ones like Julia Roberts. The ones that have too many miles on them. The ones who stand before their last john of the night with flattened bed head hair, a cigarette hanging outta their mouth and a cold sore the size of Asia perched unceremoniously on their lower lip all the while reassuring the forlorn, over sexed, underutilized guy that sure, they want it. She'll go through the motions, hell, she'll even finish him off but that's all it is...a robotic, auto pilot series of unglamorous moves. That's how my run felt. My legs were moving, my feet were carrying me one step at a time but there was nothing sexy or poetic about it. In fact, my legs just felt dead. That run was as fast as that hooker would be wet.
As I reached mile marker three I realized that my legs no longer had the sharp, stabbing, burning pain in them which was a plus however, it was at this point that I realized everything on my lower half was just kinda numb. Hhmm, maybe my waistband that had been threatening me earlier had in fact, finally cut off the circulation to my legs. My breathing was fine, I wasn't working overly hard but my legs just felt, well, not totally into it. Think of those hookers you see in movies. No, not the cute likable ones like Julia Roberts. The ones that have too many miles on them. The ones who stand before their last john of the night with flattened bed head hair, a cigarette hanging outta their mouth and a cold sore the size of Asia perched unceremoniously on their lower lip all the while reassuring the forlorn, over sexed, underutilized guy that sure, they want it. She'll go through the motions, hell, she'll even finish him off but that's all it is...a robotic, auto pilot series of unglamorous moves. That's how my run felt. My legs were moving, my feet were carrying me one step at a time but there was nothing sexy or poetic about it. In fact, my legs just felt dead. That run was as fast as that hooker would be wet.
2 comments:
I really liked the cold sore as big as Asia visual. LOL! Sounds like a pretty crappy run...there's always another one to look forward to. Remember, I have 9 bad ones to every one really good one. Had a great swim today though...I was waltzing with my handsome man...
Sorry you had a stinky run. : (
Tomorrow will be much better!!
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