More observations on running

It was 38 degrees and very foggy this morning--the ground still saturated after four days of rain showers--so of course it was the morning we went for a five-mile run.

You know how I feel about running. Our entire evolutionary history is predicated on climbing to escape predators. Once we lost our opposable toes, our strategy switched to poking predators with pointy sticks. Never was running a real goal for us. Recreational running is like spitting in the face of Nature.

My buddy, Chris, is running a half-marathon this weekend, so we ran together as he took it easy and I put forth my best effort. It works for us. Chris had a 40-minute one-sided conversation while I did my best to insert grunts where a response was needed. By the end we were pretty much in sync, and Chris had no problem translating my pained groan into "I agree. The NIT is somewhat lackluster because in the end what does it really mean? That you're the 65th best team in the country?"

For about two miles of our run we are deep in the woods around the naval station. This morning, the fog was incredibly dense. We could only see a couple trees ahead of us and the vapor was swirling around our ankles. It was a very Robert Frost or Stephen King moment. I felt that there was an equal opportunity of experiencing an introspective monologue or a murder by hatchet.

After the run we all hung around in the parking lot. I stood there waiting for my heart to catch up (it was still back at Mile 4) and everyone else enjoyed their runner's high, to which as I have previously stated I am naturally immune. Steam was emanating from our sweatshirts, which I think is pretty cool. It also reminded me of just how cold it was, a fact lost on me since my extremities went numb somewhere in the middle of a puddle.

Man, I hate running.