Today I went on my first serious "long" run since the marathon two weeks ago. It felt, as I mentioned to Wiz, not like I had large bricks tired to my feet but more like someone had replaced the bricks with slightly lighter bricks. Still, I was able to keep up the run for the eight or so miles. As I mentioned before, my next goal is to run a half marathon without walk breaks.
I can't find my damned glasses.
Not my usual nerdly red framed glasses, which fog up and actually make it seem brighter out so I don't wear them outside.
I'm talking about my way cool prescription 'SportSpecs" that I need not only because I'm incredibly vain and the bright sun in New Mexico makes me squint, deepening any developing crows' feet, but also because to call me nearsighted would be an understatement. Don't get me started on contacts. I tried them once. They are way too much trouble, and I threw screaming hissy fits when they folded up under my eyelid upon insertion. I have no patience at all. My optomitrist told me that as I am getting old (he actually said that, he said old, not older) my nearsightedness would be corrected by the time I was fifty. But then I'd need reading glasses. So lasic is out.
In any case I took off for my run without any glasses at all, figuring that as long as I could see my feet (I can) and the path ten feet in front of me (I can) I'd be okay. The guys, Sweet Baboo, Wiz, and Bones, took off ahead of me. I'm alone. It's a brisk 27 degrees out and I'm managing to stay just ahead of chilled. Just me and the ipod. Almost NOBODY is on the trail this early, when it's this cold. Ahhhhhhh.
So I'm heading down the Bosque trail and its about forty minute later when I see the guys coming back. Sweet Baboo, in his white shirt, black tights, and white hat, seems to be limping. Bones, in his red jacket, is walking slowly, and Wiz is just sauntering. When I'm about 50 yards away, I holler, "what's wrong? Why are you guys walking?"
Bear in mind that I can't see faces, or even really make out distinct bodies. I can make out general human forms and the major colors they are wearing.
About 20 yards out, I yell again, "Hey, three ironman are walking down the trail. that sounds like the first line of a joke!"
I try again, "is someone hurt?"
It's when the last 't' sound of the word hurt leaves my lips that I realize that the three men approaching me are completely unknown to me. They are some old guys, much less attractive than the three men I supposed them to be. The one I supposed to be Sweet Baboo even has a big grey beard. One of them finally says something like, "I guess if we were real men we'd be running"
Well, then I'm stuck. I just said a few lame things and they went their way and I went mine, and they had a story to tell about some bitch on the trail that didn't even know them and was giving them crap about walking instead of running.
The moral of the story is that the girl at the pool who waved at you, or the cute guy across the gym floor, might not have been flirting with you at all.
Nor was that girl who seemed to be either teasing you or harassing you out on your run today.
They may just be horribly nearsighted and you happen to be wearing something that someone they knew was wearing.
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