Rayne and I were pumped. We
The path over the Brooklyn Bridge was
|It didn't look like this.|
There was still a little left in the bottle after the explosion. It tasted
At the entrance to the Manhattan Bridge (when we finally got there) Rayne graciously took over jogging stroller duty. Baby Henry was falling asleep for his morning nap. YES. We were back on track.
On the Manhattan Bridge, pedestrians run along the outside of the bridge, next to the Q train tracks. I guess the one good thing about subways being so patchy to outer boroughs on weekends is that we
By the time we got over, Henry was d-d-done. I carried him sobbing and whimpering around the underbelly of the bridge. We were pretty much back to where we had started out, since the bridges are so close on the Brooklyn side. We were parched and feeling, quite frankly, a bit deflated.
|World's. Worst. Mom.|
Now that Henry was asleep, we had two choices: 1) call it a day and go back to our apartment, a mere three or four blocks away, or 2) turn south and head to the park to try to complete our 12-mile run. We opted to
|Earth to NYC: These need to be fixed.|
We had moved our bodies a grand total of nine miles over two-and-a-quarter hours. For the math-challenged among
Not exactly PR* material. I think we might try another strategy for Saturday morning long runs....
|You made it, Baby Henry!|
*PR = Personal Record, not Public Relations, although the latter could also fit the story.