We were supposed to run five miles last weekend. But this was my first run in my orthotics, and I got a serious case of shin splints by mile two and I ended up
Motif! I must have been in a tonguey mood last Saturday because I did my sticky-outy trick again at our post-run brunch. But we were at a restaurant I'm not a huge fan of, so I may just be reacting to the miracle of sawdust-flavored omelets. Peter behind me doesn't seem to be making yummy-tummy gestures either.
Fast-forward to this weekend: We
Ladies and gentlemen, the heartbreak of shin splints:
But brunch afterward was a much nicer affair. Funny how flavor can really make food taste good. You can't tell in this picture, but four of us have some serious tattooage. We may have to take a couple dedicated tat pix at our next run to document how marathon training is a great prison-rehab program for reformed gang members.