Once upon a time I considered myself a runner. Then I moved to Moscow, where I mostly do speed training: how fast can I make it from the metro indoors? But while the weather has impeded my running lifestyle a bit, I will have you know that I seize the opportunity to do so whenever it arises.
Take this evening, for example. The public transportation is such that if I don't make the 10 o'clock "group taxi" (this is GoogleMaps delicate way of saying "ghetto van/bus") I have to add a 15 minute walk onto my commute. And if it's after 11, no group taxi goodness. Period. It's the trolleybus and a 30 minute walk. No complaints, except for that I'm tired, it's cold out, and I've already commuted for about 45 minutes at that point. But definitely not complaining...
Well, tonight I was late. I was invited to opening night of the very same ballet which I raved about only two nights ago. I am an old woman, and would have preferred to spend my Friday night cleaning my apartment, catching up on life, and SLEEPING, but this was not an invitation to be turned down.
So I found myself facing the open road at 11:45 pm, on the final stage of my commute home. And I knew it was time for a run.
Unfortunately, I was decked out in pencil skirt, long dangly earrings, a giant coat (of course!), and galoshes. Carrying a bag with some of my music scores and my heels.
Remember the grace of those Bolshoi ballerinas?
Not. Me.
As graceful as galoshes might seem, they are not likely to be the trend which replaces the barefoot and "Five Fingers" running shoes movement. Add a seriously lopsided gait due to my load of scores, and I'm sure my lanky 6'0" self was quite the spectacle. I had the following video play through my mind at one point:
Brilliance.Take this evening, for example. The public transportation is such that if I don't make the 10 o'clock "group taxi" (this is GoogleMaps delicate way of saying "ghetto van/bus") I have to add a 15 minute walk onto my commute. And if it's after 11, no group taxi goodness. Period. It's the trolleybus and a 30 minute walk. No complaints, except for that I'm tired, it's cold out, and I've already commuted for about 45 minutes at that point. But definitely not complaining...
Well, tonight I was late. I was invited to opening night of the very same ballet which I raved about only two nights ago. I am an old woman, and would have preferred to spend my Friday night cleaning my apartment, catching up on life, and SLEEPING, but this was not an invitation to be turned down.
So I found myself facing the open road at 11:45 pm, on the final stage of my commute home. And I knew it was time for a run.
Unfortunately, I was decked out in pencil skirt, long dangly earrings, a giant coat (of course!), and galoshes. Carrying a bag with some of my music scores and my heels.
Remember the grace of those Bolshoi ballerinas?
Not. Me.
As graceful as galoshes might seem, they are not likely to be the trend which replaces the barefoot and "Five Fingers" running shoes movement. Add a seriously lopsided gait due to my load of scores, and I'm sure my lanky 6'0" self was quite the spectacle. I had the following video play through my mind at one point:
I've had some awkward running moments in my life. Probably even more than I realize. This one was up there with the best of them.
But here's the thing: I love to run. It feels strange even now to freely confess such a bizarre inclination. And running purely for the fun of it, without worrying about gearing up, pace, or distance, is exhilarating.
And completely hilarious.
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