It was cold-ish 50 degrees.
I was in shorts and a t-shirt. 100% cotton of course.
“Synthetics are for freaks who don’t know better. ‘Ooh it wicks away the sweat!’ WTF does ‘wick’ mean? No one ever used the word wick before Underarmour came along. It’s a fake advertising word like ‘nite’ or ‘lite’. Nothing feels as creepy against your skin as synthetics.” I pontificated.
“What else do you hate, Dear Botendaddy?” Said the Park Ranger.
“I hate when you want to change your route and the stupid GPS tells you to make a U-Turn every block for three miles after it’s obvious you want it to find a different route.”
“And what else del.ic.io.us Botendaddy?” Queried Ramon.
“I hate when you go to pick up your take out and the restaurant is nice, so there’s nowhere to stand without everyone staring at you… awk-ward!!!” I said.
We started running. We started fast, or what I thought was fast but we were still about 9:30 the first mile. To be fair it was a gradual uphill the entire way. We ran up the big Avenue past Mansion Row.
I saw that as it leveled off we had a chance at old man APFT time of 19:42. We made it.
“You know, I can run faster if I want, but I don’t have the motivation. I thought I was flying. Where did my 7:58 mile go? Where did my 8:30’s go?” I lamented.
We ran past the old haunted, deserted National Guards Armory. We had a good shot at a 30 minute three mile, but what with weaving across streets and racing for green lights amongst traffic we can in a little over. We hit 5k at 32 flat.
“I don’t know. I know you’ve complained a lot about your hamstring. That could be it. It could be a very real injury that has not healed.”
“Also, you’ve stopped competing in races. That could do it as well. Your lungs may not be used to the pace anymore. You just aren’t as motivated to run fast. You may have even forgotten how to pace yourself to an eight or even a nine minute mile.”
Said the Park Ranger.
We ran back to the University. I wasn’t as tired as I had been the other day. We ran about 43:20 for the four mile pace.
We went into my University office to have a coffee.
“They were running the marathon this morning. I’ve run them before. They suck.” Said the Park Ranger.
“I can’t do it. Right now I don’t think I could even run five miles. I’m going to see the VA or talk to a private surgeon. My hamstring may have actually separated. That could be it. I can’t do any lower body work at all. Not even light leg presses.”
I said as we sipped the coffee. It was freshly ground. I do have a grinder for the beans.
“This is depressing. Enough. Let’s got to Botendaddy’s Penthouse condo in the mansion district and get in the hot tub. No clothing. It’s tacky.” Said Ramon.
“Double espresso with cinnamon?”
Peace be the Botendaddy