Woke to a loud rapping on the door and Michael (my brother and running partner) stood with coffee in hand. But no coffee for me. Not even time to rub the sleep from my eyes. Laced up my ultra-shiny shoes (more on that later) and out the door.
Funny thng about sweating. It's like some strange distillation of whatever you've been ingesting. This morning, for example, I'm pretty sure if I"d licked my arm I would've gotten at least a mild beer buzz.
All along the pathway, folks I see have this strained grimace. Perhaps this is the true secret joy of running. You put your body through hell just so you can feel the intense relief of stopping.
I think my own face probably twists into a particularly gruesome grimace. I kind of grimace a lot anyways. Meaning if I'm even slightly uncomfortable, I look like a mime screaming.
Well, I hope that's not true. Perhaps I will try another approach -- a constant smile, unnaturally large, scary even, while running. This might work. I only need some Crest Whitening strips. As things presently stand, I think I might scare some folks. Just imagine a sweaty grunting man running down the street, grinning an unnaturally large grin, lips pulled back to expose mossy yellow teeth. Say hello to "Bill your creepy neighborhood runner."
And that smelly trail of sweating spraying out from behind him? He ate some pesto last night, so the sweat might be a little slick. I'd watch your step.