Yesterday morning I ran along the Charles River and over the bridge to Harvard.
In the middle of crossing the bridge two shells filled with the Harvard women’s crew team popped out from underneath. It gave me chills. The good kind.
Oh, I’m in Boston. Did I mention that I’d be here? It’s a big part of why I’ve been AWOL on blogging. My life is not my own at the moment. I’ve been saying that a lot lately.
Seeing the crew team took me back to my college days. I rowed for UC Davis and being a simple club team we were in awe of the schools like Harvard bursting with crew history. It was fun to see them in the flesh and hear their coach in the launch alongside the boats pushing them hard. Memories.
Back to the run. Glorious, happy run. I had done not one single solitary thing to raise my heart rate in a week. I would call it early taper for the Morgan Hill Sprint Triathlon I’m doing this Sunday, except one really needs to have been in some sort of training from which to taper.
Quick aside: the runners here are serious. Each and every one looks like 26.2 miles would be a walk in the park. They are a little scary. Methinks that running here is a serious religion.
My point being, this run was long overdue. And it was heaven. So much so that I did it again this morning. My quads are sore. That’s how far down the slippery slope I’ve slipped. Sore quads.
I’m saving the best for last. I get to do the race on Sunday with Harriet Anderson.
Fingers crossed I can keep her in my sights!