I've been "running" for about a year now. According to one of the apps on my phone, I have 20 documented runs, so that ought to tell you everything you need to know about my qualifications as a runner. I run. Sometimes. When I feel like it.
I wanted to go yesterday morning and was keeping an eye on the temperature. My watch said 61... 63... 64... 64... 64... perfect. I got ready and hit "start" and it said 68. 68?! What the heck happened to 65, 66, 67? Argh!
I went anyway and for a smattering of reasons (hadn't had enough water yet, perhaps shouldn't have had so much coffee, was burping my Raisin Bran, the sun got hot) had shorter splits than usual, which is okay as I'm only competing with myself. The further along I got, the better things felt. I was on the next to last leg of the running part (I do a fair bit of walking still) and was psyching myself up to finish. "It's right there. You've got this. You can do it. Keep going!" To my utter repulsion, two strides away from the end of the sidewalk, I hit an unseen cloud of gnats, hiding in the shade of a huge pine tree. My positive self-talk turned to a stream of "Gak! Pbbbt pbbbth pbbtttttth! Gik! Are you even kidding me?! EWW!"
So glad I could be a participant in the Cosmic Comic Humor episode. I'll be over here in my bug net...
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