It was no big deal. I kept on running.
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I had eaten my way through Houston — Kolaches and Shipley Do-Nuts in the AM, tacos and queso and chips for lunch, various Indian food dinners. I was bulging on day 1 and it got worse from there. All good! That’s why I look forward to going to H-town.
Still, I was looking forward to getting back and going for a nice long run. I assumed it would be hot and humid August weather upon landing, but turns out we’ve got a bit of fall-like weather here at the beginning of June. I’ll take it!
I dashed off and was feeling good. It has been raining, so I expected some wet conditions. I jumped the wall into the park and came upon this walkway.
I saw water had collected in this one area, and assumed the rest of the path was just covered in grassland debris.
I did give it a second thought — something didn’t quite look right — but I didn’t slow my pace — I kept right on going. That was the wrong thing to do, because that was muddy deep water there.
My reaction, upon trumping right on into the middle of the muck:FUCK! My run is ruined. Everything is ruined. Everything!
I sadly need to report that my thought went along those lines.Correction: the park was near empty so I was saying that pathetic shit out loud.
Here’s the thing: It was no big deal. I kept on running. Yes, my feet were wet, but I hardly noticed. Eventually, they dried, or as best they could, given that the overall conditions out there were wet.
Main point: it was no big deal. One of the many cliched, but life lesson affirmations that flow through my mind every time I go out for a run. Somehow, though, when I’m out there putting one foot in front of the other (sometimes right into the muck), these thoughts go deep and make more of an impression. Yet another reason that I lace up and pound pavement as often as I can.
