The other night when I was on mile 11 of a 16 mile run, my phone rang. Why was my phone with me on a run, you ask? This ironbrain thought it would be a good idea to run from Dan’s, head south, then come back north and end at my house. However, all my important stuff was at his place, so I stopped over around mile 10, put my bare essentials in my backpack and continued running. My knees started to hurt pretty quickly and my ego was already bruised. I was running up a hill with my backpack, not nearly done with my task, going slow as molasses as night began to fall. Dan’s ringtone was music to my ears at this point in my harried journey. I picked up the phone, out of breath.
“Where are you?” asked Dan
“[gasping for air] Running!! Still!!! Where are you??”
He named his coordinates and suddenly my hypoxic brain hatched a brilliant plan.
“You’re on your bike?” I asked.
Affirmative.
“Ride fast and meet me. I am heading toward home on 21st and I need to you take my backpack.”
He readily agreed. Help was on the way! Yahoo!! Finally I saw his shadow, and ran toward him with my backpack. He graciously took it and pedalled alongside me, homeward bound. When we got to my house however, my Garmin read a mere 13.78 miles. Not the 16 I was looking for…
It was dark, my knees hurt and I felt like crying I was so shelled. Dan asked me if my knees hurt (like injured hurt) or just hurt (tired hurt). I begrudgingly admitted it was the latter. I was ready to call it a day, but he encouraged me to complete my mission. In the dark we went on, he pedalling so slow he might as well have been on a tricycle, and I just hanging on for 2 long miles while he distracted me with interesting conversation. When all was said and done I had eeked out 15.75 miles, thanks to Dan. Who I imagine is probably blushing as he reads this. [Dan, just pretend you are me for a moment and you will be really happy because you are the center of attention!]