Wedged

On many runs, there comes a moment when the trail falls quiet, and only the sounds of my stride echo on the pavement. I’m alone, and it’s the perfect time to meditate, to reflect on life and perhaps to retrieve a wayward bit of spandex from where it has unfortunately crept.

No runner, male or female, is immune to this wedgtastic phenomenon. The trick lies in waiting for the perfect semi-private-while-completely-in-public moment to, eh-hem, rectify the situation.

At mile 2.5, I was blessed with an empty trail and all the freedom in the world to right this wrong. But just as soon as I’d done it, in the blink of an eye, the telltale whirring of a cyclist’s wheels rushed up behind me.

Sneaky bastard.

Otherwise, it was a good run!

I can sit outside in a tank top for a few precious minutes post-run and pretend like it’s warm outside. It’s not even close. Thank God I’m fleeing to the land of summer soon.

And every run should be followed by a delicious smoothie. Mango, pineapple, coconut milk, chia seeds and ground flaxseed. Beer not included.

Maybe next time.

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