To squeeze in some extra running, I've been wearing my running gear to my daughter's soccer games, on Thursday evenings, and running while her team warms up, so I won't miss the game. I can report that the field she regularly plays on, in our home town, is my favourite place to run, hands down. Tons of steep hills, trails, and shade. The Kitchener field is not bad either: it was connected to a series of long, though rather deserted, trails, and made for good running. But Fergus. Ah, Fergus. That's where I ran yesterday evening. There were no trails. I was quickly out of the small town and into the country. The road had virtually no shoulder. It was heavily travelled. But it was also quite residential, and the speed limit was fairly low, for a country road, so it also had a cool device to show drivers how fast they are actually driving, in comparison to the speed limit. As I ran toward the device, I watched with interest to see how fast those cars were passing me: 61 km/hour; 70 km/hour.
And then I saw an odd number flash on the screen: 12 km/hour. It popped up to 13 km/hour. I broke out in a huge grin--it was measuring my speed! And I was running at about a 5-minute/km pace, or slightly better, exactly what I was aiming for.
Too funny. Okay, Fergus, you're not my favourite place to run, but you did put a smile on my face.
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