7 miles
to the washington bridge and back
60 degrees
overcast – drizzle – soft steady rain
Overcast at the start, cool. Calm, quiet. The green felt deeper and darker in the gray. A block before I reached the river road, an ambulance sped by, siren blaring. A few minutes later, a police car, silent, but with frantic, flashing lights. I felt relaxed for the first mile. In the second mile my left ankle hurt a little. Started chanting triple berries to lock into a rhythm and to block out creeping doubt. Nothing fancy, just strawberry blueberry raspberry over and over. Once or twice: strawberry blueberry raspberry ice cream caramel strawberry chocolate ice cream
Just before I reached the bridge and the turn around point: drops drizzle rain — soft, steady, soaking. A few reprieves under the leaves, but mostly insistent water. I didn’t care; it cooled me down. The only thing I didn’t like was how my water-logged shorts stuck to my legs. Yuck!
assessment: I had some moments of struggle during the run — my legs were sore, feeling the need for a bathroom — but I also had some moments where I powered through. So much of it is mental. I’d like to come up with some fun distractions. I should return to my St. Paul sidewalk poetry project, find some more poems to run to. I could also do another poem-inspired scavenger hunt. I need a purpose for these runs that isn’t marathon training related.
10+ Things
- approaching from behind, rhythmic slapping –the slap slap slap of heavy, striking feet — then a fast runner in a blue shirt ran past me and up the hill near lake street
- passed him again when he stopped to study the map at the kiosk — was he lost?
- a rower on the river! single shell, their oars skimming the water — not sounding soft like a goose skimming the water, but choppy and hard like ___?
- the coxswain, instructing rowers through her bullhorn
- slap slap slap the blue-shirted runner passed me again between the trestle and franklin
- limestone leaks: even before it started raining, the limestone bluff in the flats was gushing water and leaving puddles on the pavement
- whoosh! a car’s wheels driving through the puddles
- a strange, intense floral smell — sweet, I think, and not entirely pleasant or unpleasant, just smell and flower and sweet
- a honking goose perched on the wall that holds back the river in the flats — were they honking at me? at a biker approaching from the other way?
- slap slap slap Mr. Blue Shirt is back! Nearing the end of my run, heading south, he zoomed past
- sometimes the rain sounded like footsteps from behind, but when I glanced back, there was no one there
- flash flash flash flash lights on the back of two bikes flashed red to let everyone know they were there, which was helpful in this gloom
- Good morning! a vigorous greeting from Mr. Morning!
- the return of Mr. Blue Umbrella, who walks in the middle of the path and never moves over. I’ve complained about him before — maybe last year? As I ran by him, the smell of stale cigarettes
- soft green fuzz on the edge of the trail, above the floodplain forest — was it from one of the cottonwood 3 — 3 giant trees in a yard. Last week, Scott and I walked past them; I have never seen that much cottonwood fuzz: the lawn was almost all not-quite-white!
Because of the rain and the cloud-covered sun, I didn’t see any shadows. I remember wondering if I might be able to see one if I was closer to the streetlamp or a car’s headlight.