Digging Out

I apologize because all I'm going to say for half this post is everything that every single person on the East Coast has been bitching about for the last week and a half.  Snow. Ice. Shoveling. Salt. Fall down your stairs. Ice skate and snowshoe to the grocery store, find out it's closed because no one can get to work. Put off digging your car out. Drink to forget that you have to dig your car out.  Realize that digging your car out is wayyy more enjoyable after you drink.  Feel such sheer exhaustion after spending the whole day shoveling that you decide eating and drinking your way out of the snowstorm is a valid plan.  

So yea.  If I didn't have co-blogger Ange, this blog would have changed titles in the last week.  Most likely to "Drink til I'm Fun."  Because Praise Jesus, I live in a neighborhood where the grocery store can't be counted on to be open during a blizzard, but you can bet your ass that at least 10 bars are.  And they will be packed.

My workouts in the last week have been few and far between.  Last Saturday I walked to an ice skating rink downtown with one of my good friends, where they were having free skating all day thanks to the weather conditions.  I say this with no sense of hubris whatsoever, but I must be hilarious to watch when ice skating.  This was the third time I've ever been IN MY LIFE, with the most recent taking place when I was 19 and went with the clothing store co-worker I was dating at the time.  Hellloooo memory lane.  So I of course clung to the edge of the rink and asked if there was any chance they had a traffic cone so I could scoot around the ice like a small child.  Alas, no.  After 20 minutes of skating we decided we had our share of fun for the day and walked back home, but not before stopping for refreshments in the 'hood.  And following up with shoveling.  

And then I did no physical activity for seven days.  I mean, unless you count the bicep curls that took place when I lifted my wine glass from the table to my mouth.  

This past Saturday I decided it was time to get my ass in gear.  I noted that most of the sidewalks were cleared enough to run, and snow or not, I was going to run.  Of course the first 20 min of my run the snowflakes were fluffy and sticking, meaning I had to wipe my eyelashes every 35 seconds or be one step closer to becoming a walking, talking Abominable Snowman.  The sidewalks were clear for the most part, but when I got to about the halfway point, I found out what Shel Silverstein meant when he said "Where the Sidewalk Ends."  It ends at Station Square.  Where there is no sidewalk to speak of, and trees are down, blocking where I imagine a sidewalk might appear in May.  So I was forced to run in traffic, and hope that no one was feeling particularly in the mood to commit vehicular homicide.  And I'm still here! Small victories.  

I managed to crank out a solid 5 miles, despite the sidewalk conditions.  I'd be lying if I said it was great.  It was hard and my lungs and my legs were screaming in pain by mile 2.  By mile 4 I was starting to get pissed at all the business owners and residents that haven't cleared their walkways, or worse, have cleared them once a week ago, and ignored them since, creating a lovely skating rink for pedestrians to glide around on.  But today I was reminded of how much better I feel when I run.  And barring any further blizzards, I'm getting back on track.