Schweet Schweet Schpring

**WARNING: This entry is not about spring. It's about gross bodily fluids. Read on, and don't say I didn't provide adequate warning.**

Spring is in the air.

Or, at least, it was for approximately 4.7 hours on Monday.

And the defaulted immediately back to gloom-and-doom 40-degree cloudy nonsense on Tuesday.

You tease me, Spring.

But this morning marked the first of the outside morning runs. For the past five or so months, morning runs have been solely occurring on the treadmill at the gym. While I have no problem running at night in Baltimore after work, running in the mornings when it's still dark out is arguably more questionable.

But this morning, the sun was up at a reasonable time and even though it was a chilly 42 degrees, I got in a nice run through Federal Hill and around the Inner Harbor. Delightful, really.

Except.

I was never a spitter until I became a runner.

And there is something about running out-of-doors in cold weather that gets the juices flowing. There is something even juicier about running out-of-doors in cold weather in the springtime, with those lovely early-morning clouds of pollen that arise to greet the sun.

However satisfying it is to work up a nice hauk, I can't get over the digustingness of it. Having run a leg of the Baltimore marathon last fall as part of a relay team, I can attest to the sheer grossness of running as a sport in general. Running a marathon and have to go, and the next Port-A-Potty isn't until Mile 7? Just go, man. No trees around? Whatevs. Pull over to the side and get it done. And, yes, this includes other bodily functions.

Something about running makes your body want to expel things. Sweat, primarily, and spit. But other things, too. I'm sure every runner has seen that viral email photo circulating with the guy from the Boston (or New York?) marathon, running for America against the wind with the remnants of his last four meals running down his leg.

I KNOW, IT'S GROSS.

Thankfully, I have never done such a thing. Although the September 11th 5k was a particularly painful course for me given the sudden and extreme cramps I developed (for no reason other than the fact that I'd neglected to have any coffee that morning, so I've deduced). I've also never experienced that hallowed trademark of serious runners everywhere- the puke-and-rally. Not to say that I won't. I'm told that most runners, at some point, will puke. It's almost inevitable. But not yet, not for me, and I'll fight it to the very last if I have to.

But it's true, your body expels things as you run, and for me this manifests into an extremely un-ladylike display of public spitting. I can't NOT spit when I run. Hence my vast preference for running out-of-doors as opposed to a treadmill.

Important note- running inside does not produce as much expulsion as running outside. Temperature, I'm sure, has a great deal to do with it. Also there are no trees dumping pollen on me inside the gym. So far.

Spitting and running go hand-in-hand, and this is something I've grown to accept. I'm not yet, and hopefully will never be, to the point where I would finish the race at all costs without stopping and just allow bodily fluids to go where they will with no regard. But spitting...that I will do. And now that I've gotten the hang of it, and learned to give it some force and distance, it's a great deal less embarrassing than the girly little "PTOOOTS" I used to try that would wind up all over me.

Velocity is key.

Anyhoodle, so spring. Yes. I've decided I'm done with socks this year, and refuse to wear them at all costs (except when running, of course) so if Mother Nature could comply with my personal choices so I can stop being cold, that'dbegreatthanks.