Speedwork Wednesday becomes Junk Mile Thursday

I asked around to see if anybody knew where there was a running track in Saint John. It turns out there's one at the University of New Brunswick. It's not a gravel track like I'm used to; it's 1,000 meters instead of 400, but it's exactly what I need. Rather than take a bus or bum a ride, I use the 10K from my Mom's house to the track as a slow warm-up. I run down Douglas Avenue, past some gorgeous character homes that make Vancouver's Heritage Houses look like condos, and through the troubled North End Community to the University.

Upon Arrival, I see tradesmen sitting around, doing what they do best, and a huge fence around the running track. Shit. A huge sign on the fence confirms my fear: the track is closed for construction. I see a few workers snickering at me from the other side of the fence, laughing at the runner who didn't get the memo. Rather than sit around and sulk, I turn and set out for home. It ain't speedwork, but any running is better than no running at all.

My first 10K was intended to be a warmup, so I wasn't exactly burning up the streets. Now, with no track workout, I can rock a fast 10K home and still make decent time overall. I was just jogging at first, so it took me roughly an hour to get to the university. Let's see if I can break 40 minutes on the way back. It'll be close.

You know what slowed me down? Crosswalks. I'm the kind of guy that usually sees an opening and takes it, but I don't know what the jaywalking fines are like in Saint John these days, so I'd better just take my time and wait for the little man that tells me I can "Walk". Through the North End, I'm sweating like a hooker on pay day, and my water is almost gone. It's pretty hot out today, and in true Nathan Stafford style, I'm wearing all black clothing. Like Hendrix's muse in Crosstown Traffic, I "Don't Mind a little pain." I fly down Douglas Avenue, past the ancient homes and across the famed Reversing Falls Bridge (a popular suicide spot in Saint John). Up a hill, left on Lancaster Avenue, and I'm on the home stretch. The clock read 2:30 when I left the University Track, so I wonder if I'll be home before 3:10? Only the kitchen clock will tell. I desperately need a watch.

I enter the kitchen, look at the wall clock, and to my dismay it's 3:15. I don't know if this clock is fast, the University clock is slow, or a combination of both, but let's just blame it on the crosswalks. Yeah, that'll work.

Tip of the day: Get a watch, you dummy!


My view from the other side of the fence.