Day 11–Archer–Running scared

Day 10 had me set me to be scared of running today.  Yesterday, my face was a little exposed and afterwards the skin feel like it it had been freezer burned. My chubby face was rosy for a couple hours after the run.  Today I have to travel to Springfield for a two day motorcycle instructor conference.  The initial plan was to run after the meeting gets out this evening.  The temps are supposed to drop during the day even more, like in the single digits .  That meant I would enjoy sub zero windchills. 
Forget that, I decided to run in the snow this morning.  Temps were in the teens and I protected the face with a fleece hood.  Knowing that the snow would be falling overnight and into the morning  let me know that the roads would feel like running on sand.   It did.  Mid run I ran into my fellow Marcothoner Rick out walking the dogs.  Darn proud of his charging out there everyday.  He is representing us senior runners in the running club exceptionally well.
After seeing Rick, I continued my trudge up Argyle street.  Heather is the dividing line between Homewood and Flossmoor.  Homewood does a superior job of plowing the streets.  I ride my bicycle to catch the train in downtown Flossmoor ( my minimum Marcothon route is my commute to train route).  When it snows, the ride to the train gets bad once I cross Heather into Flossmoor.  It becomes a slow try to keep the bike upright ride. I was tempted to not do this route and stay in my subdivision, but felt already punked by not running later tonight.  This morning was not any different once I crossed Heather.  The surface seemed to change from what felt like going from wet sand to dry, no traction.  I have only advantage over my HFCRC friends, I know how to run slow and consider to even excel at it.  I thought about Priscilla and Tabitha, with their speedy selves as I saw would looked like a pair of ladies running shoe prints side my side.  I imagined that it was their prints and they were still somehow pull 8:30 pace.
After the turnaround, that little voice I here during races started it’s harassment.  The voice usually comes out halfway races. “Hey what are you doing out here.  You really don’t belong out here.  You are not a runner or triathlete.”  I start to feel a little out of place while being berated by “the voice.”  I win out in the end, because I am having fun out moving and finish. 
Back in my subdivision, Homewood Estates, the road must have been plowed much early.  The snow was compact but the feet were slipping pretty good.  The hood worked well, the chubby cheeks were protected. 




One more day in the bag.  3.12 miles in 39:02 minutes.  Told you, I excel at slogging.