I wouldn’t say hell has frozen over… but for the first time in, if not forever than at least a long time, I don’t have a running event this weekend. I had toyed with the idea of trying to squeeze in a race but I was worried about travel logistics to be home in time to catch the flight out to Madagascar at 5 AM on Monday.
So this morning I opted to do a half-marathon distance just around here in the neighborhood. I have to say… it was a struggle. I’m still fighting this head cold thing (I was better yesterday but felt a relapse through the night and into this AM). I was hoping maybe the exertion and humidity would help ensure I was sweatin’ out the germs. That’s not exactly a Richard Simmons approved moniker but so be it.
The results were… well… slow. And I really wasn’t in the mood. I’m not entirely sure I could have done another 13.1 miles thereafter. Perhaps then it’s even more all for the best I didn’t book a last-minute Hatfield-McCoy Marathon appearance.
The Garmin does not lie — today would not have been a successful moonshot.
I’m worried though that the only way I will hit the moon is if hell literally does freeze over. But thanks to climate change, I suppose that’s becoming an increasing (and depressing) possibility.