Spit It Out Already



4 miles


Central Park 4M loop 102nd transverse – 72nd transverse


Clear, slight breeze, 30 flippin’ degrees


≈41 minutes – I set my watch too late, and the results aren’t up yet.

Week total

13 miles

I’ll be adding up week totals on Saturdays.  Monday through Saturday.  I’ll keep my log here, since I’m trying to be here more often.

I got home about a half hour ago, and it is STILL 30 degrees outside.  That would explain it.  During the run, occasionally, I would need to spit.  So I found my way to the side of the path and duly expectorated.  Patooey. You probably know if you don’t launch the spit-capsule cleanly, you end up with spit-strings dangling from your mouth.  You’ve seen them.  I spit a few times during the run, and I thought I sufficiently wiped my face with my sleeve.  When I finally crossed the finish line, I put my hands to my face, which I noticed was numb.  I also noticed the area around my mouth was a bit crusty.  I found myself brushing off – almost peeling away –  the frozen saliva threads from my face.  I imagined it to be a nice lattice pattern, then I wondered if people made doilies or miniature top pie crusts from frozen spit.  This wasn’t loogie material, however; it was clear and thick and frothy.  It would be pointless to keep swallowing that; it’s much better just to spit. 

The park was beautiful this morning.  It’s almost magical, the way winter hushes the city,  Bare branches, packed snow

This was a really, really slow run for me.  Early on, my legs felt weighed down.  By the time I found my rhythm and felt good about my groove, the race was over.  4951 finishers.  Almost 5000 in the park, around that loop.  What a bunch of crazies.  30 degrees outside, and this is how we choose to spend our Saturday morning.

Christmas party tonight.  Thinking about what to pack for Florida.  What’s the weather like down there?

Butterflies and Jam

I have a 4-miler this morning.  
It’s a race, sponsored by New York Road Runners.  
It’s at Central Park.
The course is the 4-mile loop, starting and ending on the 102nd Street transverse.
It’s 30 degrees outside, mostly sunny.
For some reason, I’m a little nervous.
I shouldn’t be.
It might be I haven’t signed up for a race since July.
It might be I’m more excited than usual.
I just finished eating a toasted peanut butter and strawberry jam sandwich on 12-grain bread.
The peanut butter was “Better ‘n Peanut Butter.”  That’s the brand name.
It has 85% less fat than regular peanut butter.
Except today, when I buttered the toast before smearing the PB and J.
Clothes, check.
Number, 1497, check.
(I registered on Sunday; I think not-quite-3000 total are running this one.)
Safety pins, check.
Virtually-indestructible-tag-with-my-number-on-it, check.
Electronic-shoe-chip-thingy-that-keeps-track-of-my-time, check.
Deep breaths.
Running mode.

Time to get dressed.