Sightings in the wild, part II

I've been spotted by co-workers while out on the loose again.

A while back, I was running past Walgreens as co-worker Jennifer was walking out to her car. I think she recognized me, in spite of what was almost certainly a crazy outfit; at the very least, she returned my wave.

A more recent spotting came from Jill, who was in a car at the time (but not the white CR-V that honked at me along 42nd Street).

It was raining at the time, which evidently prompted Jill to turn to her school-aged daughter and ask, "Do you think we should stop and offer her a ride?"

I didn't look miserable, though (hooray, no race face!), so they kept going. However, I think this was the same day it hailed, because I don't remember any other rainy runs ... maybe they should have stopped.

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As for Sunday's Hy-Vee Road Races half marathon — I did it, and I did it well. I want to blog about it well, too, and today I just don't have the brain space. But details will be forthcoming, I promise!

The agony and the ecstasy of Midwest springtime

It's only natural that a bit of a down post would follow such a cheerful one.

To be fair, I'm using a little bit of artistic license to help inspire the blogging, but it was still a pretty mediocre week in terms of workouts.

We started out with thunderstorms in the forecast for Tuesday and Wednesday, meaning I chose to drive to work rather than bike. (Safety second, not being cold and wet first.) I never stop being surprised by how guilty I feel when I drive someplace that I generally bike to.

At least on Thursday, I felt confident enough in the weather forecast/my ability to persuade some nice guy to rescue me via car, if need be, to start biking again. And holy moly did it feel great to be chilled by a damp cold wind as I flew downhill that day.

I had a similar struggle-and-redemption story in my running. Given that it was overcast, cool and wet, and that a cold virus was still lurking in my sinuses, I didn't really want to run.

Tuesday, I went on an easy three-miler without issue, but I got lazy afterwards and didn't complete my foam-roll regimen. You better believe I felt it the next day, when I mustered the ambition to get ready for a tempo run.

"Expect rain to end by 11:45 a.m.," said the forecasting website as I warmed up around noon. Liar.

A gentle rain began to fall as I ran a mile away from my apartment. It picked up when I got to where I intended to cross the street, so I could eventually head south, and I tried to wait for the light to change.

But the crosswalk light was elusive, and my patience finite, and the skies ever-gloomier. Forget it, I thought, I'll just head back to the apartment and maybe cross there.

You know what those 30 to 60 seconds resulted in? My being that much farther away from the apartment when the hail hit. Emphasis on hit. Poor arms.

By the time I got back inside, dried off and did my complete round of stretching, the rain had stopped. Go fly a kite, Mother Nature and weather.com.

To make up for the 10 minutes of tempo running I didn't do, though, I did a short hilly run on Friday, when sunshine and dry weather returned to Des Moines.

Oh, the euphoria of running in pleasant weather after you've completed what you feared would be a brutal work shift, without having a meltdown, in time to have a friend-filled Friday night!