Dear reader, I know I'm talking a lot about running these days. And I feel I should offer this brief caveat in the event you are actually paying attention to what I say: I am no expert on the subject.
The death squad constantly showers me with offers of training programs and diets and ways to turn your soul into a horcrux. But I will probably never take them up on these offers for the simple fact they are too complicated.
You know?
I just want to get out there and run. I don't want to measure BMI's or BMR's or detect the difference between a 8:30 minute mile and an 8:33 minute mile. As it happens, running has been distilled into quite the science these days. Some of it seems pretty quacky, some of it is no doubt solid.
But for me, it is simply too much information. My frail mind has demonstrated its inability to follow even the most basic of recipes in the kitchen time and time again. So when someone starts chatting me up about oxygen levels, distance vs. speed training, and how you can split your soul into a thousand tiny pieces and hide them beneath rocks in the desert, I don't want to be rude, but...my mind starts to wander.
Good thing there's one demographic out there who is completely fascinated by the death squad.
The death squad.
At any rate, I went back out for another trail run yesterday. And this time I decided I would take the advice of the death squad and attempt some intervals.
In case you didn't know, the basic concept of an interval is this: when you're standing on top of a hill, yet not quite sharp enough to register that fact, you go down and run back up again just to make sure.
As I was in the process of this elite training maneuver, just as I was nearing the bottom of the hill and preparing to turn around, I crossed paths with two hikers coming up the trail. Not wanting it to seem awkward when I ran past them, I informed them of my plans with the admonition not to think it was weird.
They nodded, probably thinking I was already off my rocker.
But the best part was when I charged by a few moments later and one of the hikers loudly exclaimed, "Well, that was weird!"
Dear reader, I assure you: I used my last bit of oxygen to laugh my head off.