33 thoughts I always have before I go on a run in Dallas

Yes, BuzzFeed is already doing the dickens out of this blog post style, but I’ve yet to see one about running, and I definitely haven’t seen one about running in Dallas.

I’m an afternoon/evening runner, so this is a sampling of thoughts that ping my brain throughout the day leading up.

1. Good lord, it’s too hot to run.
2. Do I have any clean running tights? Gross.
3. I need to eat an extra piece of peanut butter, banana and flaxseed on spelt toast so I don’t bonk.
4. All I’ve had to drink today is coffee. That’s water, right?
5. Do I run the Katy Trail or run to Bishop Arts or run the Jefferson bridge into downtown and to Deep Ellum and back or run an out-and-back at White Rock Lake or …
6. Running tights are dirty. All dirty.
7. I could wear running shorts but I haven’t shaved my legs in a week.

Larabar

8. It’s spring and it’s in the 90s. Why did my ancestors drag their covered wagon to this godforsaken toaster oven.
9. Ooh, a forgotten Larabar in my cubicle drawer. I’d better eat this so I don’t bonk.
10. Crap, left my Nike Frees in my husband’s car.
11. Don’t want to wear my Brooks PureFlows. No way to keep the tongues in place. Stupid design.
12. Don’t want to wear my specialized-and-really-ugly Asics I got when I was dealing with sesamoiditis.sesamoiditis
13. My trail shoe it is. Maybe I should go to Cedar Ridge Preserve.
14. My RunKeeper training plan says today is a tempo run. I can’t tempo-run in what-passes-for-mountains-in-Dallas.
15. Mountains. In North Texas. Hilarious.
16. Why did my ancestors come here, again?
17. Great, my sports bras are all dirty.
18. So what, sports bras are supposed to be dirty. Dried sweat ain’t never hurt nobody.
19. I can’t deal with all the cyclists at White Rock today.
20. I can’t deal with all the street dogs in Oak Cliff today.
21. I can’t deal with all the 2-abreast walkers, jogging strollers, and cyclists on Katy Trail today.
22. Katy Trail Ice House is on Katy Trial. There are margaritas there.
23. I can’t stop in the middle of my run for a margarita. Alone. Pathetic.
24. That’s it; I’m running around Lake Cliff Park. It’s flat. Feral dog-free. Relatively.
25. Is it hot enough to drag around a hand-held water bottle already? Ugh.
26. Is it so hot that I need to bust out the CamelBak? Ugh.
27. If I wear underwear with these running tights, that’s basically like they’re clean.
28. I love Texas heat, I really do. God bless Texas. I love you.
29. I need more sports bras. Good ones.
30. Good sports bras are expensive.
31. Running is expensive.
32. At least I’m not a cyclist. Now that’s expensive. Right?
33. Wait, I did fartleks yesterday. Screwed up my schedule. I’m taking a rest day.

Recent sights, sounds and happenings on the Katy Trail

Brian and I are on our second-to-last week of official 5K training. But we’re tagging on a couple of more weeks to get down running the whole thing without stopping.

I think we’re there, but Brian’s adorable at scamming me into having us stop when he’s perfectly spry enough to keep going. Like today, he started futzing with his new mp3 player I got him for his birthday (Metallica makes him run faster). At the perfect 1.5 mile mark, he stops and literally fumbles and bumbles and boobs with his player like he can’t find the volume, and oh no, now it’s locked — Christy, how do I get this unlocked? I thought I saw you adjusting it the other day — you don’t remember how? Show me how.

I gave up trying to get us to keep going and realized what it was: a breather. He can fake-futz now … but those tagged-on extra two weeks of training? A no-futz zone.

Recent sights: A fat, very domesticated cat sauntering onto the trail, plopping in the middle of it, and lying belly-up for rubz. From anybody. As if there weren’t racing bicycles and roller blades whizzing by. I was like, Dumb cat. You obviously have no sense of self-preservation; go home. … After I spent five minutes on the ground giving him rubz.

Recent/all-the-time-smells: I know nature means small animals die. And that nature lines the trail. I’m just saying … the smell of dead birds or squirrels or whatever seem so much more horrid on the Katy than on any actual trail-trail (non-concrete) I’ve exhaled on. Grosssss.

Recent feels: Despite today’s futzing episode, Brian and I did well on our 3-miler. Maybe what helped was that The Nothing was rolling in from the West, which dropped temperatures and gave us a little rain during the run. The fact it looked like it was about to open up a torrent on us put a spring in our step, too. I love running in the rain, even if we only got sprinkles at the time of the run.

Cool report: Brian saw an old TCA-mate of ours on Facebook say that she signed up her and her husband for a half-marathon. I teased him about the grin on his face and said that he’s smiling because he knows that it doesn’t sound as crazy as it did just a few weeks ago. Maybe it doesn’t sound completely un-crazy, but less crazy. He did the “pshhh whatever” thing.

Later, he mentioned that maybe just maybe we could try to run from one end of the Katy to the other at some point. That’s around 7 miles. Haaaaay! Bodes well for our runny future ; )

The time of day can make or break a run

Brian wanted to see a movie last night. So that meant our 2.25-mile run had to happen earlier in the day. It’s Texas, and it’s July. That meant daring the 100+ degree heat to mess with us during our 5K training run.

I used to run in the heat of the summer day. I used to play soccer games in this heat. But it’s been a while, and exerting in the 2 p.m. sun is something that takes (re-)acclimation.

We drove to our usual Katy trailhead on Knox Street. Instead of bringing one water bottle to share like usual, we each brought one. We dressed loosely. We ran in the shade when possible.

Still, it was a butt whipping.

We had to take two walk breaks, with one of those breaks being a whole quarter-mile. I squeezed water on my head throughout the run. I even ran in the opposite lane because there was a measly strip of shade there and was nearly run down by a cyclist.

It felt good to see the very last quarter-mile marker, and it felt extra satisfying. Sometimes mere survival can make you feel like a stud.

While I looked like someone had pushed me into a pool, Brian somehow managed to complete the run with half a bottle of water left. Huh? Harrumph.