Running has become a recurring theme in my blogs this past week. Training for my first marathon, it seems, has me revolving my days around the revolution of my lower limbsOften, these revolutions initiate at The Running Factory, the RF, the hub of Windsor's running circuit. This is the spot where local athletes meet to talk tactics, build mileage, buy shoes.
This morning, after a 9-miler that started and finished at the shop, I dropped in for a chat with Meredith and Josh. (As you can see, they are hard at work as usual. No time for horseplay. All serious, all the time.) I managed to convince Meredith into joining me for a run later this week before the conversation shifted to the tedium of training as it often does between the two of us.
We then got caught up on recent happenings over a package of Cliff Energy Chews - Martini Style. Of note, the flavour received only mediocre reviews from all three of us. (Stick with raspberry instead)
On the other hand, if the Martini energy chews actually came on the rocks with a shot of vermouth and an olive or two, I think they would be a quick sell at the RF. The place already attracts loiterers like myself: lonely long distanced minds just looking for a place to forget their running woes and wash down their ankle aches over a drink or two.
The theme song from Cheers has come to mind.
I can picture it already. The RF obtains its first liquor licence and Josh is set to bounce at the door, enforcing a dress code that restricts spandex to women only. Runners come in for a pint and a power bar before retiring to a long run. Late nights, the lights are dimmed and the music cranked as the Culligan tank becomes a popular meeting place for singles seeking training partners.
But before my imagination runs wild I'll down one last, sobering morsel of Martini flavoured energy chew from the package I bought today. Yeah, I think I'll stick to raspberry.
