Practice On The South Side
I arrived in Chicago yesterday and needed a place to train, my BF suggested a local community track that was nearby. Never having been there before, I drilled him about what this facility was like, a classic sign of a manic trackster:
"What color is it? I'll accept red, but we both know I subconsciously run faster on blue? Is it 400m? Are there kids running around on it? What year was it made? Is it mondo or asphalt? Can I wear just my sports bra? Is this an acceptable practice here?"
I deduced the track would suffice, but BF did not prepare me for one thing...
Some Kinda Nasty
We park the car and I see this track from a distance, it is a brilliant ruby red, with lanes perfectly marked in white. It is surrounded by lush trees and bushes and perfectly tucked into this urban oasis. On an adjacent field I see a H.S football practice, a mother in a park pushing her little one on a swing. This area is perfect, this track will be perfect, this is a dream, I say!
I didn't even wait for BF, I skip ahead excitedly in the direction of OZ. I walk through the park, breathe in the air and feel the butterflies in my tummy, happy to be at work. I get to the edge of the track and nothing can prepare me for what I am about to see.
I gasp.
In disbelief I drop my Nike duffel and walk a little closer, not believing my eyes. I look back at BF who is just approaching and I scream, "NOOO!!".
The surface is littered with geese doo doo, in every corner of the track, no gross exaggeration. To step on track is to step in poop. There is no escaping it.
I am not sure how to act or who to be mad at, the city for not cleaning up the mess, never knowing when a world class runner may need their facility. BF for bringing me to such a dung forsaken place, or the nasty, extremely regular, rogue geese!
Why They Pay Me The Big Bucks, Right?
The workout called for running repeatedly around the track, but there was no way I was gonna step in ish with my Pegasus.
Oh Hell to the No.
So I concocted a plan with BF who runs my workouts with me. We would do the same volume of work but instead of running in circles of boo boo, we would use two straight lanes and go back and forth.
It pained me to even be there, but I kept the big picture in mind. I kept in mind this is what I get paid to do, train, get better, be better. I could leave on account of dung and who could blame me, but that would be cheating myself and my sponsors and all those that believe in me to do my best.
So bring on the guano!
Kick the Crap Out Of Crap
So yesterday at 6:16 PM central time, Perdita, was not to proud to walk up and down lanes three and four of a track on the south side of Chicago and scour the track for bird 'sheesh', and when I found it, take my shoe and hurl it out of my way into the opposite lanes.
So I am happy to report I got my work out in and ran in a caca free lane to boot!
Soaking my shoes in acid,
Perdites
