|Bad Bad bad wine...|
The fire is seventy percent contained, the smoke is dissipating, and my excuses to not run are also disappearing. Dragged my arse out of bed this morning and slogged my way through seven miles.
This is the first morning since before the fires that my legs got tired around the same time that my lungs did. A big glass of red wine last night did nothing to help my run this morning, except possibly make it a little bit more masochistic.
I also saw a friend on the trail (Hi Jeff :-)), and remembered that I am an anti-social runner/slogger. We went about half a mile and I had to tell him to bug off because I cannot talk and move at the same time. Seriously, ask anyone on my middle school track team who remembers my broken arm. From running and talking. (Sorry Jeff :-))
In honor of my lightning speed, AHEM, I leave you with a kick arse pic. You are welcome :-)
|Thanks, Jenny Lawson and itattoo.com|