Carrots are not allowed to walk – D68

24 Aug

I did the unthinkable this morning, I actually got out of bed (versus oozing out onto the floor in a puddle of sleepiness and crabiness), threw on my running cloths (instead of begrudgingly forcing each piece onto my body) and eagerly (not reluctantly) set out on my run.  Who the heck knows why but I was happy to be up at the crack of dawn and even happier to be embarking on six miles of trail.

It was a morning of anomalies.  Each mile faded away beneath my feet, my breathing felt easy and light, my legs fresh and spry.  When I turned around at the half way point I realized two key things:  1) I had just finished the first three miles of my run in 33:37 and 2) I really had to pee.  Now, neither of those things by themselves would be enough motivation to quicken my pace for the last three miles but combined together with the runner a meer quarter-mile or so in front of me?  It was a recipe for SPEED.

Normally a split like 33:37 would cause me to slow down as I try to average 11:30 to 12:00 minute miles when on my long run.  As for my bladder’s untimely decision to fill to capacity, well I grew up in rural Washington State.  I knew how to pee in the woods before I knew how to tie my own shoe.  Heck, I knew how to pee off the side of a boat before I knew how to swim!  So in those few precious moments as I slowed down, turned around on the trail and checked my watch I almost made the decision to stop, find a tree with adaquate brush coverage, relieve myself and then continue with a slightly slower  pace.  But as I looked down the trail, there she was.  My carrot.

She and her flashy neon shorts quickly disappeared around a bend in the trail and it was then that I decided to not only catch her but to do so with as much flare as I could muster.  After a little more than a mile I had cut the distance between us in half.  It was then that I realized she was not wearing shorts but the fashion disaster skorts.  Maybe it is my forest peeing upbringing that makes me such a hater of this feminine athletic look but I have to be honest, I just do not get it.  Needless to say, I now had even more motivation to pass this unknown runner and shame her fashion decision with my running prowess.  Yet not two or three minutes later she did the unforgivable…  she walked.

It is the most deplorable offense a carrot can commit.  I mean, really!?!  How could she not know that I had been hunting her down for the last mile or so?  That her existence on the trail before me was motivating me through my own desire to ease up?  That she had now put my personal record at risk?  As I closed in on passing her she stepped off the trail and made her way towards one of the many homes that border the area.  I guess she missed the memo that said she was supposed to keep running along the trail until after I passed her.

 

 

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