Running Horror

That's not a pretty sight of me to the right. It's just past the thirteenth mile of last Sunday's Spirit of St. Louis Half Marathon. I've passed the pack of people behind me, and I'm running fast (in my opinion) the last tenth of a mile to pass other runners ahead. My grimmace seems to indicate my tank is running out of gas, and I can't recall whether I ever passed the runners I was chasing.

All of which reminds me of my last post about the running writing pad and the comment left by Dr. B. She suggests using an iPod with add-on recorder to record my thoughts while I'm running. To boot, when/if I'm not thinking, I could listen to my running playlist. Great idea! Only problem is that my iPod, one of the originals, fell victim to iPod's dirty little secret and I'm now trying to decide whether I should send my iPod to Apple for a battery replacement or buy a sleek new one.

In any case, after two days of rest my feet are back on the street. 7 miles Wednesday. 6 miles yesterday. Both were beautiful spring days. Just right for a tank-top.

Wednesday, in Forest Park, another runner came up on me. "Saw you in the race Sunday."

"Passing me?" I asked, as he pulled ahead.

It's moments lke that when I wish I had my running writing pad.