Yesterday, I swam 1.75 miles and then ran another 15. (wtf.) Running down 20th, I passed a really short person, walking the other direction, with a black sweatshirt pulled over their head, so that you couldn't see a face. As I ran by, they dropped a syringe on the sidewalk, I skipped a half-step sideways and glanced at the fistfull of needles and kept on going.
I don't usually run on city streets; I stay in the park. When I left the Koret Center, though, on my way to the park, I looked to my right, and saw an endless fogbank consuming everything in the distance. To my left there was sun. And junkies. And traffic lights. I felt better on mile 7 in the park than I did on mile 4 in The Mission.
Somewhere around mile 12.4 I felt terrible. Hungry or sick or just stomach drilled from a Clif shot I couldn't tell. But I had to walk for a while, and I ran the rest of the way slowly. I ended at the Koret Center, grabbed my bag and walked another mile or so back to our apartment. When I got home, I was dehydrated and dizzy.
I'm thinking of running the San Francisco Marathon in July.
Originally posted on mat.vox.com
