I hear anchors are made of red velvet
I’ve been preparing for the Richmond Half-Marathon all summer, and recently developed some lovely, achy shin splints. Recently, they turned from annoying and achy to stabby and horrible, and my general attitude during running has gone from “Ooh, look at the pretty tree! Let’s go a little faster! Yay!” to “The lady in front of my has not darted out of my way, mopped my brow, handed me a doughnut, and run my laundry to the dry cleaners, so I must punt her into the woods!” It was at this juncture that I decided I’d better go pay another visit to my running coach. I believe I had him at “stabby”; he advised me not to run and to take it easy for the next couple of weeks. After the initial disappointment wore of, I settled in nicely to my new-found-temporary-couch-potato role.
J.: Forecast today for Richmond when we head down to packet pickup: Windy with rain, heavy at times. High around 50F. Winds north-northeast at 25 to 35 mph. Rainfall expected to exceed 2 inches. Winds could occasionally gust over 50 mph.
Me: UM.
J: We’re driving there, not running, so it’ll be fine. I have an inflatable raft and oars in the trunk.
Me: Fortunately, your car is not so tall we will be blown off a bridge.
J.: True.
Me: Still, though, 50 mile an hour winds. We’re gonna need to ensure that we’re weighed down properly. I’LL START EATING CUPCAKES.