I started out on my regular 4-ish mile route, and about a mile into it, realized that I'd forgotten to wheel the garbage can up to the curb, like I'd promised my husband. Ooops. So I turned back, did my chore, then ran into the adjoining neighborhood, intent on shaking up my routine. I ran as fast as I possibly could for as long as I could. Which wasn't very long. But I felt very speedy and buff. I gave some extra kick when I passed the kids at the bus stop, just in case they cared. Sadly, my shirt clashed with my shorts, so they were probably more dazzled by my bad fashion sense than my speed.
I'm supposed to do the Pepsi 10K this weekend. Sounds like fun, and it starts an hour or so later than my usual run, so I'm definitely in.
And for weeks, I've been crossing paths with another woman runner, we'd wave and say good morning, she with her headphones, and me with my flushed face. It turns out, she lives just down the street from me, has 3 boys, and is automatically cool because she is French. She's faster than me though, so I'm still partnerless for my weekday runs.
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