This morning I decided I'd do a short route and started down the street.
That's when I forgot I'd just run a half marathon the day before with less preparation than what I'm used to.
My muscles were so tight that I only went two-tenths of a mile and then turned around, knowing that even the short route I had planned would be too much.
Yet I still ended the day with nearly four miles run.
I decided after that to turn my run into a geocaching run and so I went to Decatur and Tucker, where my legs started to unwind with that start-again, stop-again pitter patter of the cache hunt.
My last run of the day (five different runs on the watch) was a there-and-back jaunt to the post office to pick up a package. On the way there, this old man says, "A mighty hot day to be running."
I thought of a lot of smart-ass things I could have said but only now know the truth: It's a mighty hot day when you're not prepared.
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