The people have wondered. Haven’t you heard them? It started as a murmur, an uneasy question that rippled and spread and grew to a titanic, subvocal collective cry.
“Where?” they asked. “Whenceforth? Whither our hero?”
Yesterday afternoon, they got their answer.
Pounding pavement like a Clydesdale, breathing like a crippled bellows, shaking an MP3-CD player that apparently meant its “40-second ESP” label as a cruel joke: could it be he? There was no graceful form, no cracked bike helmet. But yes–as he came closer, so did certainty: It had to be! Nobody else could have the temerity to wear those tights! Captain Spacedork lives!
Anyway. Yeah, I finally broke out the spandex and inaugurated my winter running season, after what must have been a month of sluglike inactivity. It showed: I stupidly forgot to warm up, so I started feeling shooting pains in the back of my right knee and had to baby that leg to Old Louisville and back. I forgot to hydrate afterwards, too, so I woke up this morning with probably the closest thing I’ll ever have to a hangover. I did manage to do my whole route without turning around early, but it took waaay too long. Maria thought I’d been kidnapped.
I’ve also gotten spoiled, and forgotten what a difference being able to listen to music makes. My standard CD player broke, so I’ve reverted to my slower MP3-CD device, which is evidently not at all suitable for jogging.
But, as I’ve said before and will say again: at least I’m running. I figure if I want to get in shape for next summer, it’s probably best if I start now.