Gung ho, we were armed with flashing lights, (it was still dark) and a print out of the route. We set out to walk/run eight miles. It was up a hill, and down a hill... up a hill, and down a hill, you get the picture. I grew up in Little Rock, and I'm well aware of all the hills, but I never ran them. And if I did... I certain don't remember.
Everything was going great, as far as running up and down hills go. I was hanging in there. My Run Keeper announced mile one, mile two, and three. Somewhere around mile four we were supposed to make a turn. Shortly after mile four, we made it to the top of Mount Kilimanjara. Okay... it wasn't REALLY that big, but that hill was no joke!
At the top of the hill, the street sign read Cantrell. Houston, we have a problem. We were NOT supposed to end up at Cantrell. We missed our turn. Might I remind you it was dark, and the light of day was just breaking. Maybe we were just delirious.
When we stopped at the top of the hill to scratch our heads and regroup, a fire truck stopped, and a fireman got out. My first thought was did they send the cavalry? No, they were responding to the fire on the electricity poll. Lucky for us right... NOOOO! We asked said fireman how far we were from our missed turn, and he didn't know. Ummm, aren't firemen suppose to know the streets in their area??? Mr. Husband explained they also have GPS now.
We precede back down
March 3, when I run the Little Rock Marathon 10K (6.2 miles), it will be a piece of cake, piece of pie!