the end of Spring Break

Back from the nation's capital... and visiting family in the Carolinas. When I travel I constantly have to remind myself that a vacation isn't reality. It's hard, because I always covet where other people live and imagine how much better my life would be if I lived there too. But once you're living there (wherever there is) on an everyday basis, all the hassles of everyday life take away the novelty. Such is life.

While in DC, I ate and ate and ate and ate some more. Highlights included pomegranate margaritas and guacamole liberally spiced with cilantro at Rosa Mexicano, the best french toast I've ever had (challah bread with an intense, pecan-maple syrup), a French bistro in Dupont Circle with amazing ravioli baked in gruyere and cream sauce, Italian pizza with all organic ingredients, prosciuttio, and lots of woodsy mushrooms, and a crust that was the perfect combination of soft and crispy. One night my friend Beth also cooked amazing spare ribs in a lemon and olive sauce, and another night, my host Mara made a pretty tasty tofu stir fry.

I managed to get in one visit to Mara's excellent YMCA-- seven floors full of state-of-the-art machines of all kinds-- and I also had a good run with some big hills thrown in for good measure. Did a five miler and three miler while in South Carolina, so I'm pretty happy I managed to get in four good exercise days while still getting substantial amounts of rest for my IT band over a ten day period.

Back to the grind-- but one thing I really did miss, among all the friends and food and culture in DC, was the weather in Florida, ironically enough. It was great to be driving home and watch the car thermometer register higher and higher, with sunny skies and tall palms welcoming me back to Florida. (We'll all be paying for it this summer, and into fall with the hurricanes, but right now, it's ideal).

I drove to my usual running trail this morning to find a creepy-looking guy sitting on a picnic table, no signs of a vehicle nearby. I was a little creeped out but saw a woman walking her dog, so I ventured onto the trail for a warm-up walk. The guy looked confused about his purpose at first but then he ran by me on the trail-- he was wearing long black socks, and his white-blonde hair was long and not in any kind of ponytail, both of which made me think might not really be a runner (Also I'd never seen him before). I ran for a little bit but got freaked out as the trail started to get more deserted and woodsy, thinking maybe he was pretending to be a runner but was actually waiting ahead in the bushes. So I turned around, got back in my car, drove to work, and ran around the busy neighborhood there.

Have any of you ever felt unsafe/wary/freaked out on a run? I hate that feeling.