It’s 3:30am and I’m chugging copious amounts of coffee from my beloved Grumpy Cat cup which questions, Do I look like I rise and shine? which you both know I do not.
This is the coffee cup I should be using:
except it should read, I can’t brain today, I have the Brain.
It’s a beautiful morning. You know, for being 3:30am, dark as a black hole and all that sh*t. I let Murph T. Dog out and it occurs to me that I would not be interested in running around a dark back yard at 3:30 in the morning because evil lurks in back yards with a large shining utility light which is useless and only lights the leaves of the trees below it, never a ray filtering all the way through to light your path where zombies are roaming, occasionally gently knocking accidentally into one another and bouncing off in opposite directions while waiting to eat my brains. Apparently the dog is not so concerned with Zombies. Sometimes I question if he has a brain anyway, especially after he rolls in raccoon shit, so maybe he has a point.
Brains is plural, and they would be welcome to one of my brains. I don’t need both of them and I seldom use either of them.
Brain 1: “Sigh. Comfy Mushy Pillow, I love you. Sigh. hmmm…mumble…sigh…sleeeepy…
Brain 2: “OMG WHAT TIME IS IT?”
Brain 1: “WHA?? WHA?? Baby Jesus in his CRIB, WHAT? it’s effing 9:30pm you idiot”
Brain 2: “oh, my bad, sorry.”
Brain 1: “Gawd. Just Shut Up.”
Brain 2: “I’m just making sure. What if the alarm doesn’t go off? What if our leg hurts? What if she has :poop: in the woods??!”
Brain 1: “Holy shit. We’ve talked about this about 10 thousand times. She brought tissue. SHUT UP.”
Brain 2: “FINE. Just fine. Don’t yell at me if she runs out of Gatorade and we die.”
zzzzz Mushy Pillow zzzzzz WAIT WHAT TIME IS IT?
Brain 1: “BLESSED Mary Mother of GOD. WHY ARE YOU YELLING AT ME? WE DON’T HAVE EARS.”
Brain 2: “I just wanted to be sure what time it is. Maybe we should wake her up a few minutes early. What if she forgot something? She should probably check.”
Brain 1: “Are. You. Shitting. Me? You already made her check everything 13 times.”
Brain 2: “Fail to plan, Plan to fail. I’m just sayin’.”
Brain 1: “Hail Mary, Full of grace, the Lord is with thee…”
Brain 2: “zzzzzzz *sucking thumb*”
Brain 2: “OH MY GOD I FELT A TWITCH I FELT A TWITCH IN OUR BUTT. OUR BUTT IS GOING TO FALL OFF AGAIN.”
Terrilee: “I’m gonna kill you both.”
Sigh. I give up. I turn off the alarm which has no need to ring since, once again, I’m up before it has a chance. Alarm is currently undergoing therapy, feeling completely unappreciated in our relationship.
I am hopeful for this run. Last weekend was the one we always aim for – it was a great day, a little rain storm came through about mile 5, we were running through the country side, rolling hills, trees branching and meeting overhead so it was shady and cooler. It was a new course to run, I’ve biked it before but you know it looks different on the ground as opposed to speeding past at the back of pack of bikers, wheezing, peddling until you think both legs will spin off in opposite directions, panicked at every little bump and rock that you will go flying over the handlebars and end up on FB like Killer did that time last summer, lying there unconscious while her hubs looked on worriedly, just one broken bone, little surgery on that, 3-4th degree shoulder separation, hey.
Anyway, I’m hopeful for this run. Last week was awesome – no falling off butt, no pain down the entire back of my leg, no heel pain, no burning metatarsal. Since both brains are wide awake and may be reading this I could possibly have jinxed myself, especially with OCD Brain #2, which will probably start feeling twitches at .2 miles in. I had 20 to do last weekend and again this weekend. Last weekend Brains behaved themselves until mile 18 when they screamed in tandem, “OMG if this were the race we’d have EIGHT MORE MILES WE CAN’T RUN EIGHT MORE MILES TODAY!!” Took a mile to convince myself I didn’t HAVE to do eight more today, I only had to do 2 more. Plus I have an awesome running buddy who will pull me through if I need.
Next week we drop back, not sure what we do, then a 22 miler and then the taper. If my brains are scrambled now just wait until the taper. I begin to understand why Van Gogh sliced off an ear. He may have been trying to listen to only one brain.