Scotts Running (at the mouth)

In an effort to prepare myself as best I can for the relay race next more (which at this point there is no way I’ll be fully prepared for), I went out in the heat of the day yesterday and ran up and down the steep hill at the end of our road for an hour. This morning I got up an ran in the cool. I am not a morning exerciser (my wife can stip. to that) so this was a real chore for me.

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There is a guy in our town who I have personally come to think of as the Grumpy Runner because every time I have ever made an attempt to engage him, he was avoided eye contact and made little or no response to any enquiries or called out greetings. I don’t just see him running. Our town is too small for that. He was some sort of minor adult when I was in middle schooler – assistant bus driver or third string math teacher or some other adult position holder. I’ve also seen him in line at the store, an once pawning a rifle. The guy as always been just plain grumpy. On the other hand, he must be living right because I don’t think he has aged at all since I was in the seventh grade, which is a neat trick.
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So I’m plugging away at mile three of this morning’s ‘early’ run today. The temperature is starting to rise rapidly. I’m sweating a lot and thinking about Jeff’s sweat stories. The milk and cheerios I unwisely ingested are starting to do the kooky dance in my stomach and that’s when I hear the crunch, crunch in the gravel behind me. Despite the (non-name brand) cheerios, I automatically pick up the pace. I always plan my paces down to the mile and stick to them religiously, checking the forerunner every minute or so, until someone tries to overtake me and then it’s all lost to competition with whomever is on the other end of the shadow. So I pick up the pace, and it doesn’t even matter. The person gaining on my cruises right on up, and you guessed it, it’s the Grumpy Runner. Only today he is cheery. He yells out a great big “hullo!” and slows down to run with me patiently while I fiddle with my mp3 player and get into conversation mode. The conversation went something like this:

“Lovely day for it, huh?”

“Yeah”

“Say, Don’t you live up on Clark Creek?”

“Yeah”

“Well, Enjoy the day!”

“OK, You (hack, cough).”

With that, he powered up and literally left me in the dust.

Grumpy and a sadist.

I didn’t post about it previously but if Jeff posted about his hard drive issues and Susan about the dildo-cam appointments she has to contend with, so I guess I can add that I have rescheduled my vasectomy until after Hood to Coast. The doctor was explaining that they give you a local up by your shoulder blades because some of what they tug on attaches up there, and I thought "Not what I should be doing two weeks before a major running evet." I sure hope that one doesn’t come back to bite me – we could refer to him/her as our little relay baby.

I’m in Pasco, in Eastern Washington tomorrow and Tuesday. I’m going to try for more of this running in the AM and the afternoon business and see if I live.