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|
And this little dingleberry was found after I finished ...
|Not my butt crack.|
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.
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!