"The schools are all closed and the stores are full of vagabonds. Go home." - Trip Shakespeare, "Snow Day"
Monday: 0 miles. Wimped out at -35 windchill.
Tuesday: 8 in 65.5 (-22 windchill)
Wednesday: 10 in 90.5 The first three were at 7 1/2 min./mile, the rest with Bob H. and Mark S., who I hadn't seen in a year. Conversation:
Me: I was testing out my gear for the Superior Trail 100 and I fell off a cliff. Broke a finger and messed up my hand. Decided to try to run the race anyway. Broke another bone when I fell on the hand again. Ran another 50 miles anyway. I quit when I hallucinated that an aid station was a Mayan temple.
Bob: Your running stories aren't like ours.
Thursday: 4 in 37.5 Multiple foot and ankle problems. Saw Bud out for a walk (I know three Buds: Marvin, Irving and Sheldon; parents, choose your names wisely). He got old this year. He's 85, but just recently bought a riding lawnmower and a snowblower. When I painted the trim on my house, he painted his whole house. When I cut grass, he cut his, edged, trimmed, weeded, aerated, overseeded... Now he's slowed down. And so have I, now that an octogenarian isn't trying so hard to make me look bad.
Friday: 22 in 3:28. This was supposed to be much longer. It was brutal. I was fighting some infection - my tonsils and lymph nodes were swollen. My right knee complained the whole way and continued hurting after. My left shin and right achilles tendon also ached a bit.
Saturday: 6 in 62 in heavy snow (19 degrees, 6 windchill). Saw Barb and told her we were the only ones out there (Lake Phalen) that day. "You know, we're crazy," she said.
Sunday: 0 miles. (-9, -31 windchill) There's crazy and there's pointless. Barb still ran. I just shoveled 5 inches of snow. Bud finished first, but he had a snowblower.
"Life in the fast lane. Death from above. Clean slate... white out." Shriekback, "White Out"
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