Sun seduced me to run outside. Temperature seemed friendly, so I laced up and went. As an obsessive planner, I plotted my route first: go north on Olive, it turns into John, turn right on 15th, and turn right on Pine. It should be a leisurely 2.5 miles. Let’s go.
The map did not mention the slope. A young lady chatted on the cell phone while walking past me. These people give no respect to the aging runners. Dogs, pedestrians, restaurants, and apartments all became a blur against the uphill. My thighs were aching and I distracted myself calculated the probability of a cadio arrest. I should have known, they called this place Capitol Hills for good reasons. Finally, I reached 15th and it is flat. I widened my stride and started to enjoy this jog. Then I turned right on Pine.
Yes, what goes up must comes down. Every step became a pounding. Were these a new pair of shoes? What happened to the padding? How thick are my precious cartilages in those knee joints? Fighting gravity this way is way worse than the other way. Actually, fighting gravity anyway is no fun. Wait, this is supposed to be a work-out, I am supposed to be tired. Why did I come out on the streets? Oh yes, the Sun. But Seattle Sun is no good for Vitamin D. Man!
The next day, when the memory was still fresh, I went the other direction: go out on the 8th, left at Denny, left at Broad, left at Western, then left at Steward that becomes Olive. I was enjoying the perspiration when the black-diamond grade slope appeared after 1st St. I simply gave up on Steward, after Pike Place Market, and walked uphill. This street can kill those less fit.
Finished shower, I contemplated life sipping a nice cup of Starbucks (this is Seattle, they don’t do Peet’s). What is worse: the boring yet flat treadmill or the up and down Seattle streets?
The sun looks nice out there.
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