I have been on the hunt for a track in DC since arriving last week. There are plenty of tracks but they are all closed to the public. According to Directive 604.2, the general public is permitted to use track and fields during certain designated hours. I have been to three DC public schools with track and fields and all three violate this so-called Directive. President Trump really needs to get on this, pronto.
Unwilling to sacrifice my workout, I decided to do it on a treadmill. That too was an epic fail. I couldn’t figure out how to convert meters into feet or miles into kilometres or what pace I should be running or why it kept yelling at me to move. After two minutes of trying to figure out the most complicated machine of my life, I hit the red button and sheepishly jumped off.
At that point, I should have just left the gym. Instead, I felt the need to announce to everyone that I do in fact know how to run even though I only lasted two minutes on the treadmill. I explained that I am just in no condition to operate heavy machinery at this time. And no, I am not drunk.
I’m not sure why - perhaps it was because I spent the day in the archives or because I am overly nervous about the upcoming marathon or because I have had very little adult contact these past few days (correction: months) - that I found myself pouring my entire life story out to a bunch of gym rats who by this time were either very convinced I was a professional runner or that I was a complete nut case. I am really hoping for the former.
So after ten minutes of philosophizing about my life, I bowed out (literally) and full on sprinted towards the elevator. Once on the eleventh floor, I indulged in a huge bowl of kale salad with roasted beets. All those antioxidants, vitamins, minerals, and nitrates must compensate for that missed track practice, right? It is like that study that found taking a hot bath is equivalent to doing an hour of running or something. So now I am going to go finish this kale salad in the bath.
Moral of story: don't talk to strangers in taperweek🚫 .
5 more days until marathon 😬