In a post a couple of weeks ago I talked about a scenario where I arrived home after work and was inspired to go run because it was snowing. Yesterday I arrived home from work and the sun was shining, the sky was blue and the temperature was a balmy 52 degrees. It was a great night for a run even though I was not planning to run last night. I had planned to do some light weights (because heavy weights are too strenuous) and then maybe some mental training. Nevertheless, I found myself heading out the door for a quick 4 miles with my dog, Epaphras.
It was during my run that it occurred to me that if bad weather = me running and if good weather = me running then perhaps it isn’t the weather that makes me run. Perhaps there is just something wrong with me that makes me want to run. Perhaps it’s genetic? Perhaps all of us runners have some gene that has predetermined that we are going to be runners? Did it ever occur to you that you can’t turn someone into a runner, they’re born with it? These are the kind of crazy thoughts that crash around my cranium while I run.
Somewhere around the 3 mile mark Epaphras stopped to sniff some bushes and pee on them. Usually I try to make him keep running so we don’t have to stop but I’ve been battling a sore throat and a cough and needed some time to clear the massive phlegm buildup from the back of my throat. After a few hacking coughs brought up a loogie the size of my fist I felt a little better. I momentarily considered swallowing it because to be quite honest it had a very similar consistency to one of those CLIF Shot Gels. I’ve noticed this before and often thought that if I ate a bag of Skittles candy and then hocked up a loogie it would be pretty similar to a Raspberry CLIF Shot Gel. Don’t get me wrong, I swear by those things. I buy them by the case and I won’t go on a long run without one. (With apologies to the great folks at CLIF Bar who will most certainly not be sending me any more free stuff now that I’ve compared their Shot Gels to snot. It would appear that no one is immune to my stinging half witticisms.)
Before we started running again I gave a quick farmer’s blow to clear my nostrils. Then out of the corner of my eye I saw movement at the park across the street. There were two young boys over there staring at me with their mouths agape. The shocked expression on their faces said “dude, that’s the grossest thing I’ve ever seen!” I chuckled to myself, smiled at them and then went on my way. If they’re anything like my boys, they probably attempted their first farmer’s blow right after I left... either that or I’ve turned them off running for the rest of their lives. This would be disconcerting if we hadn’t already established that becoming a runner is genetic.