Live through this

Today it happened. I may be self diagnosing here, but I'm pretty sure I've come down with Freezonal Disorder™. I have been a good sport this winter. It's been cold, really cold. Barely a day above freezing in January. I've put up with it with minimal grumbling (other's may disagree with this statement). I've run in the teens, I races a half marathon with a wind chill of 5 that not only netted me a PR, but a frozen ponytail. I headed out in snow/ice/rain/wintery hell storm with Ishii and Rachel with really no questions asked. Of course the post mortem of that run, by accounts of all involved, was that was dumb. We did it anyway. 

Today though, I thought it was just going to push me over the edge. Last night I was not feeling well. There are some nasty illnesses going around this winter that I've been trying to avoid.  This morning, it was 14 degrees with a windchill of about 4. If I was feeling 100% that would be fine. I was feeling maybe 80%. I spent most of the day negotiating this run. I had few options. I don't belong to a gym which is fine because I hate running on the treadmill. There is a Lucille Roberts 2 blocks away. The thought of getting a day pass to get my 8 miles more than crossed my mind. I figured it would be worth it for the entertainment of going to the Lucille Roberts on 125. People in Harlem have never been shy about talking to me about running, either while I'm running or while I'm waiting for a light to change. I've heard life stories about health issues and weight battles, been asked questions about how to get started, had kids run with me for who knows why. I actually love it. If I can help people get going, great, all the more reason for me to run. Even if I have to hear "skinny white girl" from time to time.

In the end, I made a few deals with myself:

1. I would wear a brand new pair of shoes. It was about time to get another pair in the rotation. A new pair of shoes always feels great.

2. I would stop at Road Runners and pick up my number for the Bronx half. That leads to 3...

3. I would partake in the candy bowl that NYRR always has out at number pick up. It always seems like an odd thing and the runners line up to it like pigs at a trough. 

4. I could cut it short. And I did. I ran 7.64 instead of 8. LOOK OUT!

Now it's done. Was it the greatest run of my life? No. Is it done? HELL YES.