My friend, A, and I ran 8 miles along the Potomac on a crystal-clear sunny Sunday morning, stopping twice briefly to allow my second toe on my left foot to stop throbbing. I'll be shopping for a new pair of shoes this week. And thank you for your comments on that; I'm going to re-check my shoe size.
When I bought my Nike Air Altheas in the summer, the salesperson said I'd need to buy a new pair at the end of October. Here we are in December, and my damned skinflint ways have caught up to me. I also think that a treadmill may not be the healthiest place to run. A few days ago, I picked up my pace on the gerbil mill while listening to the flavorlicious Panjabi MC, and hit my feet rather hard on the end of the machine.
Hands off the Twinkies!: As A and I ran past Reagan National Airport, which sits along the Potomac, two 11 to 12-year-old boys ran alongside us, laughing. There's often a crowd there as the planes swoop down rather dramatically for a good show and rush of adrenaline.
We were running pretty slowly, less than 10 minutes a mile, but picked it up a bit when they started running next to us. After about 15 seconds, the first boy, a chubby kid, started breathing heavily and slowed to a walk.
"Come on!" I teased. "You can't quit now and let us beat you."
I looked behind me and the kid was red-faced, no longer laughing, and definitely not pleased that two girls could pass him so easily. The second boy, who's thin, ran with us for another 15 seconds, then also stopped.
Dang. Those kids, especially the first one, needs to get out a bit more for some well-needed exercise. Enough with the video games, television and junk food.
We're raising a nation of fatties with no stamina.