Well, I did it. I got out there. After more than a week, I ran. And it was good.
I'm not ready to declare an end to my funkiness, but I can at least stop staring at the big goose egg in my mileage counter for this week.
I decided to exorcise my running demons by descending into the valley of death, down Memorial Parkway to the Towpath, which is the biggest hill in Akron, in my estimation. (From the summit of Summit County, Ohio, into the Cuyahoga River valley.)
I ran about 4.5 miles total, but about 1.6 of those miles were spent stumbling down, then death-marching up a hill that averages between 8 to 12 percent grade, but has a stretch that peaks at about 20 percent grade. I mean, it's no mountain, but it tuckered me out.
My quads and hammies felt like hot pepper jelly afterward, and my calves are all like, "Dude, that was just mean."
Wherein we're disappointed with the media. Again.
Miss Zippy wasn't impressed with the reporting on the Boston Marathon: "I was trying to find coverage on TV and could find none. Still amazes me that the biggest running event doesn't make it, but I guess we are a minority. I did follow a few friends though -- it's so interesting to watch someone's race unfold."
Answer: From what I hear, you had to pay for terrible coverage. Couldn't we at least get a tape-delay?
Old Jess thinks maybe my funk is a result of a mysterious identity: "Maybe you ARE [Jayson] Blair, hiding under this pseudonym of 'Viper.' That's why no pics of you, huh? Finally. I have solved the mystery."
Answer: To add a little intrigue to this theory, I also went to school with a guy who was partly responsible for outing
Happy Hour is nearly upon us, teammates, and boy-howdy is it a nice day for patio drinking! Have a finely brewed weekend. Run well and drink well. Cheers!