Threw on my favorite running tights. Nike. Left knee brace. Laced up the pink Pegasus. Chose a better hat to keep the cold out and my earplugs in. Superdry. Hit the time machine. And ran back into the 80s.
Boy George met me at the start. Miss Me Blind. How apropos. Tears For Fears reminded me that everybody wants to rule the world. Phil kicked up the pace with his drum solo. And Mike brought me home with Thriller. Miss you Mike. Love you always.
As my mind searched for more spaces to breathe I let go of its ever present tension. Albeit for a short while. Spandau Ballet True punctuated the moment as I cooled down.
Popped into the market to snag some almond milk for my recovery date with Vega later. On the way home I couldn’t help but think about a few things. I’m always thinking. Perhaps that is why I started running. Not to think less. But to think less of that which does not serve me well. Past. Or present.
Not interested in timing and speed. Only on putting one foot forward followed by another and another…Running ahead. I can no longer see the lingering shadows. Nor feel the cold of your breath. Moon child run free.
Hadn’t ran since Saturday night. Good solid run. Crazy nosebleed and headache soon followed after I’d taken a shower. Nosebleed stopped. Headache persisted. I’ve always had them. Years. Doctors don’t know shit. So I can’t give too much more energy to that vibe.
Tonight’s run was a little bit different. Easy breathing. Heavy legs. Probably because I’d done a gym class before with Mrs. Cooper. Not to mention I decided to run in Inglewood. Lots of hills. Wasn’t ready. Pushed through anyway.
Tonight’s run was dedicated to a coworker who suffered a heart attack on Saturday. The last time I saw him. I didn’t care how slow my pace was or how leadened my legs felt. I had to run for you Berto. I had to run for you. Prayers going up.
Solid. No breaks. Steady pace. Felt good to be running at night. Passing cars of people trying to duck LA’s cold. Started off on a popular path in Culver City. Eventually taking it to the streets because the path is pretty dark in a lot of spots. Safety first.
No sidewalks for the kid either. Too many cracks. Too much knee pounding. At least in the street I felt my shoes absorb most of the impact and I could see the cracks. Finished as strongly as I started. Newbie runner on deck. Baby steps. Indeed.
Woke up with thoughts of Pilates. Didn’t make the rush or the two slow ass buses. Spotted my pink Pegasus’ on the floor. Thought why not? Been a couple of weeks since my last run. Not a runner. Don’t like to run unless I’m being chased or have a basketball in my hand. Real talk.
Run. Trot. Some cardio in between. Didn’t focus on how slow I was moving. Just that I was moving. By the time Nappy Roots started spittin’ the burning and itching had disappeared and I’d found my stride. Baby steps. Today’s run was dedicated to all the black men wrongfully convicted and currently incarcerated enduring years of a lengthy appeals process. Their families too. That’s peace.
Pre Workout Oatmeal with cranberries, cinnamon, agave, unsweetened vanilla almond milk + decaf green tea with lemon
Post Workout Blueberry Blast(recipe below)
Sun Warrior Raw Vegan Protein(chocolate)
unsweetened vanilla almond milk
I will be brief. Nike’s in store customer service is completely nonexistent. At least in Los Angeles. More specifically the locations at The Grove(newly remodeled location) and in Santa Monica. I’ve rarely had a good experience at either store.
In most cases I would still make the purchase. Later chastising myself for contributing to my own invisibility. The rub. Employees barely greet you, remain huddled in their own personal discussions and reluctantly approach even after you’ve picked up a display shoe to inquire about size.
I realize that their employees are not paid commission. This should not be a determining factor when it comes to administering good customer service and sharing product knowledge. Both sorely lacking at the above mentioned locations. I could go on. But I won’t. I’ve already had my lemon water for the day and an amazingly tasting green smoothie.
You can read the original rant on my Instagram page. Just look for the teal Nike Metcons that have yet to find a place in my closet next to my Lunar Elements and many pairs of TR Fit(s). Pick a number. Because I’m not one. Oh yeah…About that brevity thing?
Injury! Injury! Century! Century! I know. Doesn’t make sense. I just needed something to rhyme with injury. Not here to talk about the series of ankle injuries that have plagued my fitness journey for a year. Only to acknowledge that I’ve put a few HIIT classes under my belt since the doctor gave the green light a week ago.
Instead of easing back in I dove in. Head first. I started with my most challenging classes. All HIIT(High Intensity Interval Training). Love this style of training because it pushes me beyond my mental and physical game. Kicked off my return with a couple of ATC classes, swim sessions in between and a NTC workout with one of Nike’s master trainers.
I’m slower. Fatter. And I mean that in the most sensitive way. Quietly convincing my ego. None of that matters to me. I’m an athlete. I always have been. Always will be. Athletes have set backs. They also have comebacks. Watch mine.