There you have it. Goal km’s met! (Albeit via some sneaky tactics and spin-doctoring)
* I didn’t complete Sunday’s run at all. Didn’t even lace up the sneakers. Why you ask? Maybe I’m lazy? Maybe I didn’t want to be found in a ditch half-chewed to death by a ferocious dingo? Answer: a little of column A, a little of column B.
Please turn your attention to the two large red circles in the above diagram. Ahem, moving along…
It all started Saturday. I was dutifully shuffling through a 13.5km run along the, normally, painstakingly uneventful road near my parents’ house. Before I go on, a bit of context (to help get you on my side). I’m not a fan of running at the Bootman homestead. Mostly because I would rather spend my mornings sleeping off a Party Mix coma than working it off, but also because I’m a scaredy cat. Between the bears, dogs and manure stenches that I have encountered, it’s easy to talk myself out of braving the wilds of rural eastern Ontario. So to combat my (only somewhat) irrational fears, I now drive 1.5km to the end of their road and start my run from there, because until last Saturday I truly believed that bears and Cujo-like dogs only lived on gravel roads. Like the naive little city runner that I am.
Back to Saturday…at around the 12km mark or so, I heard a bark from across the road.
Me: “Surely that large, angry looking dog isn’t going to cross the highway at lightening speed towards me…”
3.4 seconds later…
Me: “GETYOURDOG!!GETYOURDOG!!GETTHISCRAZY,FOAMY,FANGY,DOGOFFMEEEEE!!!” (followed by shrieks at various decibels)
Within seconds this Cujo dog had catapulted himself across the road and had me pushed into the ditch with it’s blood-stained teeth bearing and wildly disheveled, mangy fur raised. So I screamed and screamed and then once more for good measure and only by God’s grace, it decided not to tear out my jugular and instead ran back to it’s death lair. Now I know I’m making light of this now, but it was probably one of the scariest things I have ever encountered. That dog was mean and there was no one in sight to help me. So a shout out to the Big Guy for being there, as always, even when I’m not expecting it. This little encounter made me realize that a) I have no idea what to do if attacked by a dog and b) I had a reason not to run on Sunday. Y’know, shock and all that. So Sunday was a recoup day. (Plus it turned out that I had to be on the road by 8am for a work conference and there was no way that I was getting up pre-6am on the weekend.)
**Monday run in Ottawa = FAIL. Oh I had visions of jogging along the sunny Rideau Canal and waving at the cool Ottawites through the Byward market, but I awoke to rain instead. And (gladly) retreated to my plush upgraded suite’s king size bed at the Westin for a few more hours of indulgent sleep. Decadent! But no 5k for me and two recoup days in a row!
*** Thursday’s quick run…I did 4k instead of the 5k I had planned because it was hot and disgusting. Yes, even at 5:30am.
**** So by now you may be wondering how the crap I SURPASSED my weekly km goal with all this skipping and excuse making? You see, I know me pretty well. And because I know me pretty well, I built in two “cheat” days. I didn’t plan any workouts for the weekend and then used them in my “tally”. Get used to it because that’s how I roll. (Spoiler alert: you’ll notice on week two’s plan I have “OFF” for both weekend days. Muwahaha…)