Rambo

I dressed in the cold.  I could hear the soft rain patting against my window.  I put on my shoes and walked out of my flat.  Dawn was barely visible.  I walked in the rain, Grateful Dead on Spotify, and took note of my appendages.  They were all, more or less, for shit.

I started my run and my knees were all knobby and weebly-wobbly.  It took about a mile to find some strength in them and probably another mile to find a pace. All in all I ran just under three with a warm down run home.  There were some failures this morning and some successes. This does not surprise me as I find this to be a recurring theme.

My pace was an 11 minute mile which to me is nothing to be ashamed of.  I think If I keep my training going I should be able to shave a minute and a half off by the end of summer.  The big hill at the end of my loop in the park was definitely a big win for me today.  I wouldn't say I attacked it, but I pawed at it with more ferocity than I have hitherto shown.  I managed to keep my wind pretty steady too and that has been a source of trouble for me.

The greatest success, I think anyway, came when I got home.  I was wet, cold and shivering and there was NO HOT WATER in my building.  To say I was upset is an understatement.  I cursed the gods.  I wanted to maim and murder and torture the management office that oversee's my Co-op.  I was ready to go postal.  But I thought to myself, as I often do when I need to get to the meat and marrow of the matter;  "What would John Rambo do?".  And the answer was clear.  He would take a cold shower. Because he has no fear. So I took a motherfucking cold shower.

I am a badass and this morning I win.