Flashback Friday: Mud Skating

My balance has always been pretty good, thanks to a childhood spent at the local ice arena busting through couples holding hands during the open skating session. My brother worked there, and my parents would drop me off to spend most Friday and Saturday nights.

As a youth hockey player, I was what they called a "rink rat," or maybe more appropriately a "rink brat."

Ice has never scared me, whether in skates or in shoes. To this day, although I haven't ice skated in a couple years (regrettably), I can still glide across slippery surfaces with ease. I can't recall ever falling during a run.

Those skills came in handy last night, when I hit the trail around the corner from my office -- this time creeper-free! -- for a three-mile run. From the fourth step on, it was a muddy, slippery mess. Instead of running, my strides felt more like skating.

This was my leg after just a mile ...

If you look closely, you can see how my
foot slid.

And this little dingleberry was found after I finished ...

Not my butt crack.

This time, there was no surprising speed. It was a slow slog through the bog. I felt like I was getting ready for mobster swimming lessons with how heavy my formerly lightweight Altras (4.7 ounces when dry) became in that wet mess.

Thanks to my history on ice, I was able to right myself anytime I lost my balance, which was often.

Tune in Monday when I will undoubtedly be recounting how I tumbled down a ravine as payback for all my hubris about not falling.

Back Talk
Wherein we're girly men

Xenia thinks I need to STFU about the lack of minuses regarding my weight: "You're starting to sound like an obsessive girl about your weight. Did you misplace your balls or did Mrs Viper take them as a trophy after the wedding?"

Answer: What else is a blog for than to publicly obsess about our personal hangups? *coughdissertationcough*

Happy Hour is nearly upon us, teammates! Have a finely brewed weekend. Run well and drink well. Cheers!