When I was holidaying with no bike in sight and only a white Mustang convertible complete with a hot Greek chauffeur with which to whisk me away (hi Pan!), I ran on several occasions and in two provinces. A short jaunt to the red beach in Cavendish. A few beautiful morning runs in the countryside (NS). A foggy, salty-smelling run along a wooden boardwalk in Summerside. Now that I'm back to work, I'm off the running. I just can't seem to fit it in. I can't run after work because my quads are tired - pleasantly so, mind you, but tired enough to convince me to stay on the couch after locking the front door behind me. And when I bring running clothes to work, Murphy's Law dictates that work demands will rise just before lunch, and prevent me from leaving.
There have been a few times when I thought I might run after work, and in these cases the first half of the run is wobbly, and the second half tiring. During these runs, my quads feel like concrete, reminding me of my very brief tri career during which I discovered the conrete quad phenomenon, which pops up in the first few minutes of the run portion.
Sunday long runs and weight training will keep me sane until bike season is over.
How about some lobster poutine and sweet tea at the Englishtown Bus Cafe? We witnessed this doubledecker while waiting for the shortest ferry ever in Cape Breton, Nova Scotia. I was jonesing for some brekkie but didn't get to the order window in time.
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