I’m staring at a potful of ice that I don’t want to stick my foot in. I really don’t like being cold. Whine. I ran on the treadmill tonight at the UTSA gym. It was pouring outside, so I was thankful to have that option, BUT, I’ve got to say, the state of TV at 8pm on a Monday night is pretty awful. We don’t have a TV In our house because I don’t have much self-control around Law & Order re-runs — or anything particularly cheesy on the USA network. So it’s always kind of a shock to be bombarded by images from some of the current reality shows. I’m not a prude, but it’s just weird to be running along, trying to simulate the Hope Pass climb, while people make out in hot tubs and women learn to pole dance on ten TVs. Maybe it’s just being surrounded by boys who could be my sons (had I made some questionable decisions in high school). Or maybe I’m just turning into a grumpy little old lady; I certainly felt like I was 87 years old the first 20 minutes of tonight’s run. When I turned in my sweaty towel, a nice young student worker asked me how my workout went. I told him it was great (foot is none the worse from the weekend!), and I managed to leave without sharing my thoughts about The Bachelor and the Fall of the Roman Empire.
Some race reports