It’s been established that you know about my terrible problem, Butt Falling Off Syndrome, and I want to thank both of you for your cards and flowers. The donation to Asses of the World Club was probably excessive but I know you meant well. And I don’t mean to complain but I think it could have been worded better. Something about In Honor of the Biggest Half Ass We Know doesn’t seem quite right.
So … I went to visit the Exorcist. Since the walls are padded no one heard my screams. I was told no exercise for 24 hours which meant no run that Friday. Saturday I worked a race with wind chills in the low teens; after 1-1/2 hours I was so cold and shivering so hard that I couldn’t have run if she’d been chasing me with a Yanni CD.
Sunday dawned grey and cloudy but what would you expect since weather.com said it would be partly sunny? At least it was a balmier 21 degrees with only a breeze. I was so fed up with being cold I totally over-dressed (as it turns out, two pair of running tights, two L/S tech T’s, a vest and a windbreaker are not overdressing in a breezy grey 21 degrees). I never got terribly cold although my 18-hour Hot Hands wimped out in 2 hours. I had the sense this time to carry my Shot Blox for fuel. Which, by the way, when you carry Shot Blox in your pocket and it’s 21 degrees they freeze solid and when you try to bite one off they clink solidly against your teeth. Be careful unless you want to help your dentist pay his kid’s tuition. If you suck on them for about five minutes they thaw a bit and then you can spend at least 10 more minutes trying to chew them and vainly attempting to suck them off your teeth, where they are stuck like Gorilla Glue on my kitchen counter. It will give you something to think about besides the pain in your ass.
Sara was fighting a cold and I was fighting asthma and we were unanimous in our cold grey breezy misery. The same route that a couple of weeks ago passed like time lapse photography was now a. run. in. stop. motion. Some geese flew by and to pass time I told them the sad story of the socially inept goose that lived on the lake last year. I felt so sorry for the poor thing but really, if you’re going to go around dive bombing the other geese and refuse to play nicely you are going to find yourself, at some point, an outcast; they will probably not invite you to their 4th of July festivities and you’ll just have to hide behind the pontoon boat next to the landing and watch them party. It seems geese are not known for being socially correct.
Doug then pointed out that geese fly in formation and constantly support and encourage each other as they fly south for the winter. Apparently geese do not honk continuously while flying so that socially awkward adults who are home alone will run outside, look upward and say to no one, OH! Look! Geese! Not that I ever do that. The geese honk to encourage each other – which is not what the other drivers on Germantown Parkway are doing at you when you’re doing 35 in a 50 and straddling the middle lane, just so you know, guy in the huge shiny black SUV talking on your hands free device and waving both hands in the air as you steer with your knee.
Helpfully, Doug demonstrated by honking.
Sara honked tentatively.
WTH, I honked. We honked Doug honked Sara honked Terri honked.
It seemed to help. We felt oddly cheered.
And then. CD Smith, may you rest in peace, I hate your road. Up down Up down Up down. You couldn’t have a flat road in your name?
And … what is that? Oh no it is not.
Oh, yes. It is. Running is once again a pain in the ass and I have 3.5 to get to my car.