I finally went for a run this morning.
And took myself (perhaps spitefully), on basically the ugliest route Chicago has to offer.
I think my sleepy subconscious had determined that I simply did not deserve a better looking route.
Belmont to Western, my friends.
Not ever a welcome sight.
Or a welcome smell, come to think of it.
In the end, I woke up, wised up and let myself take pretty Grace all the way back home.
Overall, I hoofed it through about four miles, which is just okay, considering the fact that again, I have signed up for the Bastille Day 8k, and again, I have not been training one iota.
Two runs in two weeks is not particularly up to racing standards.
Especially when you nearly get down on your knees at stoplights because you’re so thankful to finally get a second to catch your breath.
I’m gonna have to get out there more often, chickens.
Not even a stellar playlist seems to be able to save me from my gross lack of preparation, so I’ll just turn up the beats and pretend like I’m cruising on Thursday night.
Stay tuned for how that turns out in reality- although I think we probably already know.
Enjoy the sunshine today, chicks!