It seems that yesterday I said something brilliant about running an epic hilly run over lunch. And none of you kind people bothered to point out that I may have been working with a faulty definition of epic.
Dictionary.com defines epic as (besides being a long poetic composition) heroic, majestic, or impressively great.
We did run, Talia and I, three or maybe three and a half miles. In the wind. And the cold. With approximately zero hills. And a dachshund. Perhaps it was the antithesis of epic. (And yes, I did look that one up.)
We drove over to the Frisco Greenway Trail and had a lovely visit while we jogged along. Yes, I’m going out on a limb here and using the j word. We didn’t want to work so hard that we couldn’t chat, after all.
Axel, on the other hand, may have had an epic run.
We were the only people on the trail, so he got to run without his leash. Up and down through the ditch, chasing squirrels and birds, and in one especially epic moment, eating something dead at the side of the trail.
See that guilty look in his eye? He knows better than to eat road blick. But a doxie will do what a doxie will do.
And so will a runner. So tomorrow I’ll tie on my shoes and try again. Wish me luck. And tell me about your most recent epic run. I’d love to hear the story.