Today I ran 3:05 in new shoes. Brand new, shining white Asics GT-2150’s. Every time they cancel one model and bring out a new one (2140 = over; 2150 = your new and only option) it makes me nervous, and I’m afraid I’ll wind up crippled. I have blisters and a bloody toe to report, but no lifelong debilitating crippling. Unless it’s slow onset.

I went a way I don’t normally go, so I don’t know the exact distance: from Astoria, down and across the Williamsburg Bridge, then across Manhattan to the west side. Up the run/bike path to 90th street, across Central Park on the 86th Street Transverse, down 5th Ave, across the 59th Street Bridge, and onto the train home at 36th AVE. It’s in the 20 mile neighborhood, but I don’t know if it’s 21 or 22 or 19. Whatever.

Running north in Astoria, I had that thing where I got the feeling. You know: I looked at my watch, which stayed on 3:00:00 through ten steps. I was like, Wow I took ten steps in less than a second. Then I though, Oohhhhhh shit I ate too many of the brownies. But there weren’t any brownies. A second later I looked at my watch and it said 3:01:06. I thought, Ah I see. Woozie. OK just 4 more minutes and you can have a cherry slurpie. Fantastic.