Non-obligatory, non-running note: This note is inspired by Ed, who always includes an ORN (obligatory running note) on his blog. As I don’t have a problem finding things to say about running, I thought I’d throw in a non-running note for a change.
NONRN: One of Portland’s culinary oddities is its lunch carts. This town is sprinkled with parking lots that have been overtaken by no-longer mobile trailers and food huts that offer large quantities of ethnic foods at cheap prices. It’s fascinating. There are even entire blogs dedicated to keeping the Portland population up to speed on the latest and greatest food carts. If I were cooler I’d make it my mission to try them all. Maybe I could even run to them, eat up and then attempt to stagger home where I could blog about the perils of sprinting on a belly full of Pho.
Enough of that. Let’s talk running. Usually I go to track practice on Tuesday nights, but sometimes work gets the best of my schedule. I’m not Paula Radcliffe or sponsored by Nike to exist yet, but I am paid to go to work. There are priorities in life, and running can’t always win. I usually make up for it by holding my own track practice later in the week. (which admittedly is never very fun)
Last night was just such a night. I ran five sleepy miles before work and hunkered down for a fast five-miler after work. The great thing about fast five-milers is that they don’t take very much time. They are also an excellent remedy to any lingering work stress. On the other hand my fast five-milers can be kind of difficult, at least for me, especially when I’m feeling stressed, and they don’t tend to be as good a workout out as track, but at least the miles get done.
And the miles always get done.
Which leads me to my next running related thought. Recently, I was out with some non-running girlfriends for drinks and I was talking about how I ran to another friend’s house for dinner the night before. I was getting to the good part of the story one when one of them interrupted me.
“You what…?” she said.
“I ran over for dinner.” I repeated.
“You ran… across town?” said the other.
“It’s not that far – just 4 or 5 miles and it wasn’t raining or anything…” I replied. I tried to steer back to the point of the story which was that French’s Onions are delicious, crunchy and a highly under-appreciated processed food, but they would not be deterred.
“Are you freakin’ kidding me?” said the first friend. “But didn’t you just say you already ran that morning..?”
I had. And at that point I realized that I had crossed some kind of line wherein running has become more commonplace than getting in car.
I kind of love that.
Also, I think it may be time I invest in a road bike.