Nobody is happier that I’m not actually singing Iron Maiden right now than my substantially better half. That’s only because we don’t have a copy of Rock Band here at the office, of course….
Anyways, to the subject at hand afoot, I went jogging at lunch today, which astute observers (or the terminally bored) will note is the first time I’ve really done anything of the sort since the Gasparilla Distance Classic 15k. I had every intention of cruising the ~3.2 mile course Mike scoped out with him (since the 3.1 I cobbled together includes a couple of uneven, sidewalk-free stretches).
The bastard got a head start while I was stuck on a call. Fortunately, the route includes a pan-handle fairly early on, so I saw him coming back the other way, and knew he was only a couple of minutes ahead. Having a goal beyond “just run the damned run” certainly helps, so it became a challenge to try and catch up.
This was not nearly as easy as it would have been a year ago. As a matter of fact, it was really fucking difficult. He’s been running diligently, losing weight, and generally being exactly the kind of person almost everyone who makes New Year’s fitness resolutions spectacularly fails to become (translation: he’s been kicking ass; big props in his direction). On the other hand, I’ve been picking up heavy shit instead, and tend to rely on a lot of innate stubbornness on top of years of doing this sort of crap a while ago (and being smaller than him).
It took the best part of two miles to run him down, and as a result, my finishing time for the whole run was a very pleasant surprise (24:00). For reference, that’s a couple of minutes faster than any of the 5k races I did late last year when I started contemplating that 15k of foolishness.
There are going to be a bunch of folks from work doing the GDC 5k this time around (and a couple masochists doing the half marathon — No Thank You), so this bodes well for my getting in gear for that.
This evening looks like front squats and maybe some dancing. Tomorrow’s forecast looks like it calls for a lot of bitching and rubbing Ben Gay on my legs.
 Run to the end of the road, then come back the same way