Lunch Run
Today I did a very easy three mile run during my lunch hour. I don’t actually have a lunch hour, but take whichever hour I desire. Usually it is less than an hour, except for the times that I actually get out of the office.
My legs could best be described as dead. They are very tired from all of the past weeks training. I am so happy to begin tapering, as I don’t know for how much longer I could have pushed myself without taking a day or two off.
I ran around the lower loop of Central Park. It’s a 1.7 mile loop and I estimated that distance plus the distance to and from my office would be 3 miles. I was close, but when I got back to the block of my office, I saw I was still short a quarter of a mile. I decided to run the long way around the block to a local lunch place to get as close to 3 miles as possible. When I entered it, I was .07 miles short. I figured that would be close enough to 3 miles, but the compulsion to make the pedometer on my Polar 625x tick over to exactly 3 miles was too much. Therefore I ran with my lunch around the corner to my office building and just past it in order to get exactly 3 miles.
Sometimes when I load the exercise data into the Polar software, it says that I went less distance than what is recorded on my watch. I thought perhaps I should go a fraction of a distance over 3 miles to make sure that my software log file said I went 3 miles as well. I decided against that though, because that would be just a little bit too compulsive.
I write this entry as I sit on the subway riding home. I just feel like lying on my couch and vegging out when I get home, but I know I will drag my weary ass to the municipal pool to get in my scheduled 3300 yards. I should have done both workouts this morning, but I was too tired to get up.
Perhaps that is because instead of going to bed at a reasonable hour, I let my wife talk me into going to the heart of Bensonhurst Brooklyn to see all of the revelers cheering Italy’s victory over France in the World Cup Soccer finale. It was quite a spectacle watch dozens of cars streaming by with ravenous fans hanging out of the windows clutching Italian flags and screaming out their lungs and blowing their car horns. People were spilled all over the streets, drinking, bbq’ing and partying while the police looked on. We searched fruitlessly to buy Italian flags or soccer jerseys for my children, but none were to be found. I guess we got to the festivities a little too late. At least it was quite in my neighborhood, so that when I finally got to bed, I could sleep in relative peace and quiet.
My legs could best be described as dead. They are very tired from all of the past weeks training. I am so happy to begin tapering, as I don’t know for how much longer I could have pushed myself without taking a day or two off.
I ran around the lower loop of Central Park. It’s a 1.7 mile loop and I estimated that distance plus the distance to and from my office would be 3 miles. I was close, but when I got back to the block of my office, I saw I was still short a quarter of a mile. I decided to run the long way around the block to a local lunch place to get as close to 3 miles as possible. When I entered it, I was .07 miles short. I figured that would be close enough to 3 miles, but the compulsion to make the pedometer on my Polar 625x tick over to exactly 3 miles was too much. Therefore I ran with my lunch around the corner to my office building and just past it in order to get exactly 3 miles.
Sometimes when I load the exercise data into the Polar software, it says that I went less distance than what is recorded on my watch. I thought perhaps I should go a fraction of a distance over 3 miles to make sure that my software log file said I went 3 miles as well. I decided against that though, because that would be just a little bit too compulsive.
I write this entry as I sit on the subway riding home. I just feel like lying on my couch and vegging out when I get home, but I know I will drag my weary ass to the municipal pool to get in my scheduled 3300 yards. I should have done both workouts this morning, but I was too tired to get up.
Perhaps that is because instead of going to bed at a reasonable hour, I let my wife talk me into going to the heart of Bensonhurst Brooklyn to see all of the revelers cheering Italy’s victory over France in the World Cup Soccer finale. It was quite a spectacle watch dozens of cars streaming by with ravenous fans hanging out of the windows clutching Italian flags and screaming out their lungs and blowing their car horns. People were spilled all over the streets, drinking, bbq’ing and partying while the police looked on. We searched fruitlessly to buy Italian flags or soccer jerseys for my children, but none were to be found. I guess we got to the festivities a little too late. At least it was quite in my neighborhood, so that when I finally got to bed, I could sleep in relative peace and quiet.
posted by Rebel at 6:26 PM
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