Week 4 - 8 Mile

An appropriate title in more than one way...(for those not familiar, the term '8 Mile' represents a barrier that is difficult to cross).

My alarm jolted me awake at 6:30 am Sunday morning, alerting me to the fact that my meager six and a half hours of sleep were up. I rolled out of bed, threw on my running gear and tried to wake myself up with a cappuccino from the evil empire. My roommate Amina and I made our way to our TNT training session at MIT only to realize that the emptiness of the building signified that we'd gotten the day mixed up and training had actually happened the day before. Whoops. Wide awake and amused by our misfortune, we decided to head home for a quick breakfast and then head out for a long run.

Awhile later, with vanilla goo and $3 for water in my pocket, we took off. The mercury had already started to climb and by the time we got started it was in the low 70s. I am a cold weather runner to the core...so not even a mile into it, beads of sweat were dripping down my forehead and rolling toward my cheeks. So much for trying to maintain my 'this is easy' look.

The first 2 miles of our run were down the sunny side of Comm Ave. As we approached Mass Ave to hop onto the Esplanade, spots of shade began to appear, making the run a bit more comfortable. Seasoned runners have told me that your body will eventually adjust to the change in temperature. I'm not so convinced, because I was completely miserable. The sweat had continued to drip down my face and had begun leaving it's mark everywhere else. As we hit Mass Ave, I realized that this would probably be a good time to crack open the goo. I squeezed the clear, warm, sugary gel into my mouth and...gagged. First thought: this needs to be cold, maybe even frozen. It was just like taking a huge spoonful of that sugary sweet frosting on grocery store cakes, talk about disgusting. Second thought: maybe the chocolate flavor would have been better. I handed the package to Amina and she warned me - 'we shouldn't take too much, the coach told me you have to ease your body into getting used to it otherwise you'll end up having...uh...major stomach problems'. Third thought: Great...just call me Charlotte. My stomach gurgled. I pushed the thought out of my mind and we continued on.

Down the Esplanade, things began to get a little strange. The goo had started to work it's magic and we both settled into a steady pace. The path was shaded and I was starting to feel more comfortable with the temperature. By now, there were many people who were biking, walking and running along the river. As we passed a playground full of children playing, something caught my eye. I turned my head and saw a child, who couldn't have been older than 3, standing off to the side. His back was facing the path and he was leaning forward as if looking at something on the ground. Behind him stood a woman, who was also bending forward, holding something in her hands. I inched closer and realized the child's pants were down and in the woman's hands was a bag which she was using to collect the child's poop. What the...?! I looked over to Amina, a mortified look spread across her face and we both looked at each other in utter disbelief.

Our attention was quickly diverted due to the fact that an AIDS benefit walk was just about to get started and hundreds of people were milling around all over the grass - as well as the path we were running on. We played human frogger for the next half-mile as we made our way through the madness. Over the Longfellow bridge, we had open views of the skyline and the river. Boaters were out, the air was clear, it was a gorgeous day. Running down the Cambridge side of the Esplanade was a bit of a struggle. We were nearing mile 5 and my muscles began to protest. We paused for a water break and continued. We crossed back into Boston over the BU bridge and headed toward home 6.5 miles down. Amina began to leave me in her dust, my muscles were still staging a sit-in and I could only keep shuffling along. Good news was that this part of our run was primarily shaded and whenever I am in this area, I mentally prepare myself for the last mile and a half home. As we continued running down Beacon, a man on a unicycle (?!) pedaled past us. Strange people out today, I thought. Mile seven came and went - I knew we were almost there but my legs were still struggling with each step. We made a pit stop at Peet's to grab some water and as we made it to the apartment, a big smile crossed each of our faces and we looked at each other with pride. We'd made it through the 8 miles.