Ten-miler

Last Saturday morning, I got up around 6 and the wind was howling.

Did NOT feel like going for a long run in that wind, so I didn’t. I put off running until later in the day.

Around 5:30 p.m., when the average wind speed was 16 mph gusting to 40, Bugman and I headed out north on 5th Avenue, until it turned into County Road 22, until it dead-ended at County Road G.

County Road G: run 2 miles east. Pass a farmer planting corn. Get passed by three vehicles, including someone you know who is on her way to chicken-sit at her brother's house.

County Road G: run 2 miles east. Pass a farmer planting corn. Get passed by three vehicles, including someone you know who is on her way to chicken-sit at her brother’s house.

After running east on County Road G, encounter an old guy in a pickup truck at County Road 24. Turn south.

While not all of them were visible in this frame, I think I could see every water tower from this road: the one at the country club, the one at the soccer field, the one at the airport, the one up the street from my house.

County road G: run south 2 miles. While not all of them were visible in this frame, I think I could see every water tower from this road: the one at the country club, the one at the soccer field, the one at the airport, the one up the street from my house.

On CR G, we were startled by the exclamations of a flock of domestic turkeys.

Bugman said he remembered these turkeys from a run he took nearly a year ago. "The same turkeys?" I asked. "They're pets?" "Well, maybe not the SAME turkeys, but they were in the same place."

Bugman said he remembered these turkeys from a run he took nearly a year ago. “The same turkeys?” I asked. “They’re pets?” “Well, maybe not the SAME turkeys, but they were in the same place.”

A dog came racing out onto the road towards us, hackles up. We stopped in our tracks. I yanked off my hat – my only weapon – to throw at it. Its Labrador buddy bounded out in front, wagging madly. “It’s OK, puppy. It’s OK.” We edge out of their territory.

The road curved west, and someone was out on their property pruning grapevines.

Somewhere around mile 8, my get-up-and-go must have got up and went. It was just an unpleasant slog back home. I averaged a 12:52 pace over the whole run.

I harbor doubts about whether I will be able to complete a full marathon when I have days when 10 miles seems so hard.

Then I get messages from the universe like this one, on a parked car on our street:

run fast

Copyright 2013 by Katie Bradshaw

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