Listen – hear that? it’s the ocean, only four blocks from here. Its waves are washing up on the shore, desperately calling to me – “Come out, come out Tori – we are waiting for you to run past and to delight in our relentless tides, our frothy foam, our detritus and our seaweeds, our stories drowned and washed up on shore for you to witness and tell the world. Run Tori, run!”
I have yet to go for my run today, and it’s 7:30 pm. Normally my run is over by 7:30 am. Tonight, I feel like crawling into bed. However: I am on a training plan and that plan calls for a 45-min easy run today. Consider this my kick-myself-in-the-pants to get the hell out there on the moist and mild (or is that wet and wild?) streets of Victoria.
Tonight I run for one who would run but cannot — for who am I to blow off a run with a race coming up, a PR to be set, a victory to be savoured — for a friend who could only wish he had a choice? Hoping he is back on his feet soon, sorting out his smelly gear, hitting the trails on his continuing Road to Ruin - although from what I hear it’s more like a road from ruin, but I’ll let him explain for himself.
And so I shall.
