Just be glad that you don't know me in real life. And if you do know me in real life, be glad you didn't see me Sunday until after I had changed out of my snot-encrusted red running shirt. It was not a good day for the Snot Rocket Guidance System.
Usually the SRGS discharges projectiles safely away from the body and to the side of the running path. This did not happen often during my final long run. There was, let's say, a thickness from the sickness last week. This viscosity was not conducive to proper rocket propulsion.
One such misfire resulted in a direct hit on my right shoulder. If I were to describe the stain, you would never eat clams again.
But I did not focus on these several errant blows because I had started off the run by doing something completely idiotic.
I did not feel my right thigh, but I did feel my left hip. A lot. Painfully, a lot. That's fun. I was limping all of yesterday and most of this morning while I was traipsing through airports, from Cleveland to Chicago-Midway to Nashville. I'm going to go ahead and call it nothing and hope I don't feel it when I try to get a run in by trying to find the Ryman Auditorium.
However, I was able to disassociate myself from the hip pain because I had done that stupid thing before I even started my run. I put on my running shoes without socks.
Four More Days
There's very little left to do but keep my legs loose and healthy. Get used to reading about the Akron Marathon because that will be the subject of every post this week and maybe even next week.
One benefit of traveling for work is drinking on the job. Tonight, I was at a welcome reception with two free drink tickets. Usually, that means some shit beer, shittier liquor and some wine. They surprised me with a local brew, Yazoo Pale Ale. Not bad. Nothing to write home about, but something to write you schleps about. Cheers.