Sunday is Runday - of the 16K variety

Last night was pretty uneventful. My roomies went downtown to hit up a bar, while I stayed home and ate bok choy. What a wild night! I ended up going to bed pretty early, knowing that I'd be hitting pavement the next morning.

I woke up with a sore throat, not a great way to start off your day on any account, but going into a long run, it kind of saps you for energy. Let's make this a long, slow run. I have no problem with that. Not every single outing has to be fast. I notice my roommate's truck is not in the driveway. Must have been a good night indeed! Booyah! High Five! Actually I think he just got up before me and went for coffee. As I slowly climb up Hastings Street, I get stuck at a red light, and notice a truck-drivin man, sporting 80's sunglasses giving me the ol' stinkeye (I presume). Wait a minute! My roommate is a truck-drivin man who sometimes wears 80's sunglasses and sometimes gives me the stinkeye I presume! Oh well. I shake it off as coincidence. (more on this later)

As I saunter down Hastings street, I hang my usual left on Nanaimo, past the Sweet Tooth Cafe. I should really stop in there someday, as I have a bit of a sweet tooth myself. Up Nanaimo I go, left on Broadway and right at Van Tech. There's a soccer match underway on the field, but I don't have time to stop for a gander. I have places to go, calories to burn. Down the hill, up the hill, past the stench of stale beer courtesy of the Returnit Depot, and along Broadway to Boundary. Hanging a left, I pass a motorcycle showroom. Reminds me of Easy Rider. RIP Dennis Hopper.

Up to the top of the hill I go, and stop in at my front door for a sip of the water I so carefully stashed in the mailbox. As I turn to retrace my steps and head back down Boundary, I look up to the window, making eye contact with my roommate, who is playing guitar. I give him the satanic devil horns, he gives me a Pete Townsend-esque Windmill, and all is hunky-dory. I wonder if he's practicing for 20 questions later.

Back down Boundary I go, past the car dealerships and all their motorized sadness, then a right on East 1st. I really need to beef up my routes, otherwise this blog is gonna get pretty boring, pretty fast. As if it already isn't! Ba-Boom! Up 1st I go, past a gas station, touch my lucky lamp post, back down the hill, left on Boundary, and Whammo! I just narrowly avoid being struck my a Subaru. I love it how drivers will roll through a stop sign, only looking left to see what traffic is coming, not even taking a glance at the sidewalk to their right. As a unceremoniously flip the bird to the lady driver, yelling some profanity that I won't repeat on this blog (The Pope might be reading), the man in the passenger side gives me a look as if to say, "I know" and the lady fakes an apology. Here's a twist: I noticed a handicapped tag hanging from the rear-view mirror. I wonder if she got her handicap while jogging and being struck by a brutal driver who doesn't look right because no cars could come from that direction. Never mind pedestrians, they bounce.

After putting this high-functioning handicapper behind me, I finish up my run and stretch out in the driveway. My roommate, coffee in hand, yells from the deck, "Man, I saw an old man running on Hastings who looked just like you!" Old man? Well, at least he didn't say handicapped woman. That would have gotten on my nerves.

Tomorrow is a rest day, and good thing, because my sore throat is intensifying and I even detect a little bit of a sniffle and cough. I need 2 things right now. Nyquil and bed, preferably in that order. That's all I need, sleepwalking AND consuming cold medication. Did I mention I sleepwalk?