This week we started getting into the groove with our running routine. We'd get home after dark, throw on our clothes and grab the dog (more about this fiasco later). I had to work extra late 3 nights so running 4 days was pretty good. On Friday night I get this bright idea....we should do a group run! Luke's and other running clubs always start out and end up at Panera's during the weekly Saturday runs. Until now, we've only been an observer to this seemingly odd tradition. Get up at the butt crack'o'dawn, put on short shorts, tank, and a cap and hit the road....rain, sleet, cold, or shine. Then, eat, drink and chat with comrades while sweat drips off your body and most normal people are just having their first cup of brew. I was secretly envious. Three of us arrived at 7:30am to join the others. The parking lot was packed. As we get ready to start off, a large group of runners passed us by with a herder gathering folks as they ran by. Now, we were in the group. Yay! I made it. I had entered the runners life. We pounded the pavement and owned the road. All towards a common goal....well, until we got dropped, that is......
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