Thinking that the Luck of the Irish was with me on this sunny St. Patrick’s Day, I decided to run outside rather than play with the treadmill at the gym. The temperature was 25 degrees, but I’ve run in much colder weather, so I bundled up and hit the road.
Somehow, it escaped my notice that every window in the house was rattling because it was so damn windy. I guess I was just lost in my own little world, applying Band-Aids to tender places, and thinking my happy Irish thoughts.
It definitely felt good to be outside again. As much as I hate running, it seems much less like a chore when I do it far away from the glowing numbers of the treadmill, which always seem to be telling me I’m not good enough or fast enough (I’m certain that my Evil Step Mother designs treadmills for The Machines!).
The first two miles went very well. There was no one else out on the road, there was hardly any traffic to avoid, and the people who had passed out along my route after drinking too much at St Paddy’s Day parties last night, had managed to come to rest in places that didn’t require my having to alter my path.
The trouble started when I turned around for the return trip. I’d done those first two miles in 19:30, but I immediately realized that my trip might have been wind aided. The wind set upon me like a pack of toughs intent on beating me to a pulp, leaving me for dead, and taking off with my wallet. I felt like I was trying to move against the sheer will of Mother Nature herself.
Needles to say, those last two miles were quite the challenge. It wasn’t like I could give up, though, because the only way to get home was to fight the wind and press onward. I did contemplate turning around, continuing to run with the wind at my back, and simply circumnavigating the globe until I was back at The House on the Hill, but I did the quick calculations and figured out I would definitely be late for work in the morning if I took that route.
Irish Eyes must have been smiling on me because I eventually made it back to my front porch, where I collapsed and vowed to never again move at a pace above a fast walk. I’m sure I won’t keep that promise, though, because I prefer the way that a certain set of eyes smile on me after I return from my daily runs.
Yes, even the strongest winds are no match for the power of Love.
And for those of you who are curious, the suggestion to apply two strategically placed Band-Aids worked wonders. Thank you…