Breakfast of Champions

August is Blog Month. Oh yes.

This morning, I woke up. Early. My entire being was concentrated on one thing::

Must Buy Oats.

Oats? Yes. Oats. You heard me. What don't you understand now? No, its not euphemism. (Sow your wild oats, anyone?). I do mean the kind you eat, typically at breakfast. I haven't, not in a long while, but thats not the point.

I boiled milk. Threw the curtains into the washing machine. Crossed my fingers and hoped that the orange wouldn't run into the yellow. Cursed my guy for using up my precious machine washing powder for random cleaning round the house. My house looks unclean anyhow, go use the cheaper powder, you. I told him in my mind. I have to catch him this evening and make this sentence out loud.

Mustn't Forget Oats.

I changed into my running stuff. Trusty Timex. Pink Nike Running Shirt (purple-ish, actually, very comfy and awesome blossom). Cotton Sports Bra (Its a new one from Jockey, works well, I find, though I cannot imagine longer runs in it, thanks to the wetness part. Support-wise, its great. So for normal day exercise, I highly recommend it, girls). The only pair of shorts I could find (Nike, Mens, my 'race' pair, the one I have for years and wear at every race). Vibrams (Ah-Ha What a glorious day, when you are going to run <1.5 hours, and don't need socks). Ratty towel. Red bottle of diluted Gatorade.

Oats, Baby. Take Cash. Rs. 500.

Quick kisses. One stubbly cheek, one soft tiny one. Bye you guys (in my head, I said). I groped in the dark for my bike keys and house keys and let myself out of the house. Still dark outside. Perfect. Hope the guys are there. Of course they will be there. They are rock solid that way. And the nicest guys, really. Most sweet. No hang-ups or airs about them.

So, Oats On My Way Back? Yeah.

We ran the usual Thursday route, which is about 12 kms in length (urk, Distance). I still stumble about - though I think I am finally clear on the directions - today. KP suggested mixing it up. 4 mins slow. 1 min walk. 4 mins fast. 1 min walk. It felt good. I could push on the fast to a reasonable pace, finally a happy pace, comforted that a walk was upcoming. KP would call out 5-4-3-2-1 to stop and walk. Those were most welcome words, I swear. Vibrams made me a quiet runner today (leave only your footprints behind types). The first sight of the Sea at Elliots beach, gosh, its a beautiful thing. Waves breaking. We continued on though, gasping a bit on the fast, catching our breath on the walk, chatting on the slow.

Bye You Guys. I Have To Buy Oats.

Biked over the smelly bridge. Hit upon another idea. Turned left and meandered through the new running route that my new running friend has shown me. ZiggyZagged to the store, which was open, how awesome is that? I have a funny walk in my Vibrams. I am sure if my stubble-cheeked, sleeping giant of a husband sees me walk in them, he will tease me about it. But hey! Guess who was asleep and guess who was in the store. First customer of the day. Oh yeah.

Oats: Rs.125. Not-Cold-Minute-Maid-Orange-Juice: Rs.20

I fixed up everything on my bike thing. The carrier. Yes. Wrapped my sweaty towel and tied it up good. And, narrowly avoiding honking motorists, I made my way back to the house. Fished key out but the door was open anyhow. In I went. All pink (or purple, depending on how you view it). And jubilant. And endorphined. And just a tad hurting - just enough - to remind me that I had a good run.

The Oats? Were boiled to within inches of their life. Which is how my parents-in-law like to consume them. I did good and handled a domestic situation alongside obsessive running, like a true pro. No one in the household knew that I (& the cook) had messed up and not put oats on yesterday's list (We just forgot yaar). And somehow I felt like Batman when I walked up to my bedroom and the monsters were still sleeping...