One Kitchen, Many Hearts: The Run

While the main objective of our OKMH weekend was eating and laughing, a sub-objective was to make our Running Pack in the Sky a reality. 

And so, despite having been stuffed to the gills the night before, on Sunday morning, Kat and I headed out for a loop around the neighborhood. Beka and Kirsten, the other two runners in the bunch, stayed back because of nagging injuries.

While being able to run outside not in snow in February was key for Kat, just running with her was a big deal to me. 

I don't run with humans. 

I run with Zooey. 

I mean, certainly I run races, which include other people, sometimes 30,000 of them, and when I am at a race with a friend, I'll run with them if our paces align, which is rare (like it's happened once?).

But I don't go for runs with people.

I don't say "hey, want to go for a run sometime?" Ever.

I don't look for running groups that I can join.

I don't live in hope that someone will invite me to join a run.

I just don't.

One reason for this is because I run at oh-dark-thirty most days, as this is what my schedule allows, and people generally are loathe to scrape themselves out of bed at that time for anything social and/or sporty. The only thing that gets me up that early is a cold coonhound nose in my ear. 

But the real motive for flying solo is that, even thought I've been comfortable calling myself a runner for a few years now, I'm not fast, and I never will be. I am the tortoise. And I'm OK with that (insert cliché about lapping everyone on the couch), really, but I am not keen on the idea of slowing anyone else down or asking them to go at my pace.

That being said, I wasn't going to NOT run with Kat. We have talked about running together. So. Many. Times. It just needed to happen.

That it made the French toast waffle and bacon breakfast prepped by TCP upon our return even more delicious (if not justified) didn't hurt either.

I'm eternally grateful that Kat let me keep the pace slow, and we looped around the route that Jeanne printed out for us (if you ever need directions ANYWHERE, Jeanne can get you there better than Google Maps), which took us about 30 minutes.

Along the way, we talked a little bit, but even though most of the weekend included uninterrupted talking, we spent most of the run just enjoying the outside, the weather (me maybe not so much on this end), the sound of our feet hitting the pavement, and one another's company. 

You might think that the silence we shared would be of the uncomfortable variety, as silence between people who have only recently just met is wont to be, but this was anything but. This weekend was truly like having a reunion with old friends, and that Kat and I settled into a relaxed mode almost immediately made that feeling even more apparent.

The humidity was approximately one billion percent.
You could SEE IT, for heaven's sake.

Who's got two thumbs and loves running outside in February?
THIS GIRL!

Oh, hai!

We were intrigued with the chicken tracks in the cement.
Jeanne later informed us that they were not chicken tracks because, duh, suburbs.

Post-run - sweaty, gross, euphoric.
Remind me never to wear that shirt in public again.

It was so great, that on Monday, we did it again.