Sneak peak

It definitely doesn't classify as training - hell, it barely resembled jogging - but I put one leg in front of the other today at a faster-than-walking pace about half a dozen times for 15-30 seconds at a stretch, and that, my friends, has me more amped up than this guy at a Radiohead show.

OK, that's more than a slight exaggeration, but I was pretty fucking excited to do something that looked like running, smelled like running and tasted like running and not have it feel like someone was shredding my left ass cheek with a machete every time my foot struck the ground.

So I know what you're all asking yourselves, because, yep, I'm just that good. Running, jogging or Gallowalking - whatever you want to call it - was I supposed to be doing it? Let me put it this way.

I liken today's foray into faster forward motion to sneaking into my parents' closet a few weeks before Christmas and getting an early look at the unopened presents I wasn't supposed to be looking at until they were put under the tree on Christmas Day. I didn't open anything today, but got just enough of a glimpse to know that if I keep being patient I'll be a happy camper when I finally get to pull the wrapping paper off in a couple weeks.

In the meantime, I'll continue to ride the bike, tread the water, pump the iron and get funny looks while I do my drills in the shallow end of the pool. Maybe I'll even start writing more, or more regularly, anyway. Actually, a former co-worker e-mailed me earlier today asking if I'd like to cover a high school football game on Thanksgiving morning. Not that it required all that much contemplation given my current condition, but leave it to Jim Wilson to let me know that I really didn't have a good excuse not to cover a game this year.

Perfect. We were bouncing around ideas today and I figured you might be in the mix, since I didn't see any "Fucked Up Pelvis Turkey Trot 5K" on the running calendar.

I can't argue with the man. While I was hoping to try and hold off this guy and his hard-charging younger brother at finish line of the Tri-Gobble for the second year in a row, I guess I'll just have to wait until next November to rob the flying McArdles of another $50. Then again, I'll be making $75 for this little gig, and the work is far less strenuous. Being injured sure does suck, but at least it's good for my wallet and less damaging to my ego.