I Ran and It Counts as a Run — Shut Up!

Against all odds, I ran 3 miles this evening.

First, and Blaine mocked me for this, I complained that my thighs are aching like crazy. They are. Still. But I ran anyway because I couldn't stand the idea of telling Blaine, "yeah, I didn't run because I was a little sore from running last time. I needed a little me time, you know?"

So I got dressed and got iPodded and headed to the high school track. Which was in use for some minor event. The lights were on, there were people in the stands, cars in the parking lot.

So I went to the gym. They have an outdoor track that's ¹⁄₅ of a mile long. Three miles would mean 15 laps. Fine. I started running, and halfway through my second lap, they locked the gate on me.

Now, I don't have another place to run. I just don't. I don't have a neighborhood route yet because there's no sidewalks in my neighborhood and up to this point I haven't been able to relax enough on the street to enjoy running. It's why I used to run on the golf course. Well, one of the reasons.

So, not able to stand the idea of telling Blaine, "dude, I couldn't run on the track and I couldn't run on the other track and there were no other surfaces to run on so I went home and ate pizza," I went inside and ran on a treadmill.

I did all three miles, but it doesn't feel like success. It feels like microwaved dinner. Still, I did it, and I'm on schedule and I didn't die and my thighs didn't fall off. So it counts.

Barely.