11 Miles Pre-Oats
11 Miles Pre-Oats
Mile 1: I realize that I woke up earlier than any sane person should awake on a Saturday morning.
Mile 2: The waning sunrise light illuminates Shelburne Road and makes even this shitty Anywhere, America strip beautiful.
Mile 3: Surprised that I have not passed ANYONE else on the bike path. Start to freak myself out.
Mile 4: The city is finally trying to fix the ripped up pavement by the waterfront from last year’s flooding epidemic. This year we are below average for rainfall but I still don’t want it to rain this afternoon.
Mile 5: Enter combat with black flies. I feel like I must have Kim Kardashian’s eye lash thickness but instead of mascara, I’m rockin’ flies.
Mile 6: Right shin begins to hurt. Run through. No pain, no gain, right? (Someday soon this mentality will kill me.)
Mile 7: If I ever become lost, any rescue team will be able to spot my shoes all the way from Kentucky.
Mile 8: Half-marathon race is in 2 weeks. I can’t wait to drive up to Montreal afterwards and dance my ass off that night.
Mile 9: I’m on the return leg…3 more miles is nothing.
Mile 10: We are all spoiled bitches in Burlington- look at this view.
Mile 11: Walk up the stairs to my apartment and head straight to the stove to heat up gluten free rolled oats with an egg white, top with berries and almond butter, go onto porch, devour.
