There are no pictures, because I don't think the world is ready to see me running bare-chested, but on this glorious April morning I ran an hour atop Chiquita Ridge in just shoes and shorts. It was a distinct violation of my personal uniform code, which stipulates that it is unrealistic to run bare-chested when weighing more than five pounds above ideal body weight. Well, since I haven't seen that number in about eight years, and because this morning was so absolutely wonderful (and truth be told, I could count on Chiquita Ridge being empty of anything but rattlesnakes and mustard plants), I got it done.
It's all part of a new mindset I'm trying to adopt in regards to running. As the saying goes, it's time to leave childish things behind. Sigh. So that means a longer warm-up to make sure that the aches and pains roll back, more awareness that sleep and hydration are actually important, and the simple realization that joint mobility is only a bad thing if I have none.
But sometimes those childish things need to be resurrected. Hence, the shirt doffing. I've been under the weather all weekend with a crippling sinus infection that moved into my lungs. It's always been my philosophy that a good run cures almost anything, so I ran a couple on the beach in Coronado yesterday and backed it up with an hour on the ridge this morning. The endorphins kicked in after twenty minutes or so, and with it all impulse control. The pace kicked up, the shirt went off, and I was no longer a blubbery mass chuffing through the sage, but a very happy lone man at one with the elements and himself.
Pre-race. OC Championships are this weekend, so I'm going to rest a few runners tomorrow. They'll run 60-75' in the hills. Those that race tomorrow will run 30-45' with strides, then core.