I went running. Sorta.

Upon inviting another friend to run this bad boy (I have been pretty into the idea of using the marathon to see every friend I've been missing for three years or more), she responded, "Apparently, if when you run you look more like a penguin than a gazelle, you are probably not biomechanically set up to be a runner."

How true. Yesterday I, too, took to the streets. And it weren't pretty. I met the bomb at the park and we 'ran' around the circumfrential trail, with occasionally desperately needed stints of walking. All in all, it was 3- miles worth and totally flat. I think that despite the relatively slow pace the bomb was able to maintain, she is not nearly so much of a penguin as I. At the start of the run, my ankle hurt real bad. I stopped, shook, and started again only to find that now it was my left tarsal bones that were in defiance. Another shake and I was on my way. The protests were silenced until after the run was over and my left knee and hip advised me that they had been displeased as well. Perhaps it's the new shoes. Either way, last night I didn't sleep well because I kept having dreams where a bad guys was coming to get me and I couldn't run. Yikes. I better get some motivational reading, and quick. And maybe some protein shakes (Ryan, my wife, who has been a novice bodybuilder for some time, advised me that adding a run to our normal routine at the gym may be causing a bodily freak-out called overtraining, and that he has found protein shakes are miracle workers). We shall see. The bomb and I are scheduled for another trot today at one thirty, so hopefully despite the poor night's sleep, I will be able to champ it.

Come to think of it, perhaps I should try booze instead of protein shakes. Seems like it's worked for you guys.