Apparently I am not fully recovered from the cabin fever I was inflicted with after six days stuck at home with three kids and a giant dog, because I made the totally awesome decision to go for a run outside this morning. The 8+ inches of snow we got has substantially melted, and it was beautiful and cold and sunny outside, so it seemed like a good idea to my impaired brain.
What I did not factor for was that the extreme melt that took place over the last two-to-three days left little rivers running down all the streets and sidewalks, and cold this morning turned all of those rivers into ice. The snow-plow-created mounds on the sides of the road were crumbly and dirty and covered in a layer of ice, forming a new substance that I am going to call "snice"-- part snow, part ice. The piece de resistance were piles of dog poop that occupied inappropriate places on the sidewalk, the street, and basically anywhere I might want to put my foot down (anyone with dogs knows that when snow is on the ground, the poor creatures don't know where the right place to poop is, so they just go anywhere they want, and some owners consider the snow to be a "get out of dog-poop-pick-up free" pass).
Having not considered any of the possible drawbacks, and being blinded by the blissful sunshine and long-awaited solitude, off I went, out onto the frosty, icy, snicey streets. Although I started to slip almost immediately, I was already drunk on sunshine, and was therefore easily able to convince myself that "it will get better." After walking the first slick half-mile uphill, I found some clear sidewalk, and was able to run for a bit. My route choice was based solely on road conditions, but even so, I was really only able to run for about a mile before I had no choice but to walk again.
When I say walk, I mean "Carefully weave around the sidewalks, grass and gutters to avoid spots of ice, snice, or dog poop." In other words, I traveled at about the pace of an osteoporosis-stricken, walker-dependent senior citizen. For the first time, well... ever, gravel was my friend, because gravel= traction.
Did I mention that I run "barefoot," in those crazy looking five-fingered running shoes that have only a thin rubber sole to protect my feet from being impaled by sharp objects? They are really great running shoes, and I will defend their peculiar looks and the running style they require to the DEATH, but when it comes to the conditions I was traversing this morning, I honestly think I might have been better off sitting down and sliding home on my butt.
About 20 minutes in, it hit me that I probably should have chosen alternate methods for both exercising and enjoying the sunshine. My "run" turned into "get home as fast as possible without making a fool of myself."
The highlight of my adventure, the part I must record on the eternal internet so I can never, ever forget about it, was when, after multiple slips and slides, I finally fell on the snow. I suppose it was inevitable. I did not fall on my backwards, which, I suppose, is good news for my rear-end, but very bad news for anyone driving behind me, because when I fell, I bent over forwards and landed on my hands. The view of anyone behind me was my spandex-clad bottom in the air. This all went down on a very busy arterial street, and although I was averting my eyes as much as possible for fear that someone might recognize me, I could see in my peripheral vision that all nearby drivers were looking at me. And I am pretty sure they were laughing and pointing, too.
By the time I walked up my driveway, I was not even sweaty anymore. I had gone a whopping 2.25 miles in 36 minutes, according to my GPS, which I suppose, is better than nothing. Normally, after a crappy run, I am in a bad mood pretty much until my next run, but this morning was an exception. All that blessed sunshine gave me my much needed Vitamin D fix, and trying not to break any bones/humiliate myself (more than once) was apparently enough of an adrenaline rush to raise my endorphins and improve my mood.
Proof once again that in Seattle, sunshine during any month besides August always has a catch.
Cracking up. And glad I decided to NOT go for a run today, or my story would have been yours + a double stroller and two screaming kids.
Posted by: Katy | January 23, 2012 at 11:34 PM