For the most part, I love my fuel belt. It’s gotten me though some tough runs, providing me with the hydration that I need to keep going, but some days it’s the bane of my existence and it spites me. Yes. My fuel belt spites me. Today was one of those days.
I was running along on a snowy Sunday evening (aka about 3 hours ago) and I had a sip of some water from one of my trusty fuel best bottles. I replaced the bottle in it’s elastic-y holster and kept running. A ways down the road I came to a red light so thought to myself “while I stand here, I might as well have a few sips of water” so I reach down and feel the nothingness in the place where the bottle should be. Now I know that I have 3 other perfectly good bottles on my belt that are nice and full of water as well, but this particular bottle is missing. Crap. I turn around and run back to where I came from and stare at the ground the whole way. I checked my Garmin at my turn-around point to make note of how much backtracking is going on. I find the bottle on the ground, pick it up, carefully place it back in it’s rightful place on the belt making sure it’s good and secure, look at my watch: 1 km. Phew. not far at all.
Today’s run
Distance: 12 km
Weather: –6C (feels like –13C), wind gusts of 31 km/hr, snowing
No comments:
Post a Comment