It was spring break for son C last week. He took Mrs. T's old car to southwest Florida beaches for the week. Said something about staying at some frat brother's grandmother's house who had a chef to fix their meals. Beach clubs. Parties. Sounds like what a spring break should be.
The cost of him taking the car was I had to drive the stick Nissan and Mrs. T drove the Audi all week. She never put the top up nor did she stop smiling.
Meanwhile I worked like a dog and ran every day. I haven't done that in a long time. Shorter distances and lots of fast running. Thursday was less than two miles and comprised more of those run-for-one-minute-at full-speed-or-until-your-lungs burst. I did five really well. The sixth was just red-line material in the last fifty meters.
The annual sidewalk art festival was this weekend. It consumes the park were my Sunday morning group runs from at the start. I arrived a little early and parked a block east of Park Avenue. Any art festival goer would pay large sums to park that close. The crowd that showed up to run was mostly fasties but it was a big crowd. I ended up running with Chris, the stalwart. His hammies were hurting but we took our time. It was near 80 degrees and 100% humid.
After the 10-mile run I took in the art festival. Crowds were thin and they kept their distance from this frothy wet runner, until I cooled down.
WARNING: Cadet porn could return this week. West Point is off and three of them are due in here by Wednesday.