Friday, February 29, 2008

Defining you

So, the Providence Place Mall thinks I'm defined by toilets and urinals. Bastards.

Sunday, February 17, 2008

7 instead of 20

What's going on? Was supposed to run 20 but could barely jog/walk/limp/crawl 7 miles today, out of breath the entire time keeping up an average pace that was probably slowe than 12:00/mile. And my knees still hurt. And I was out of breath again doing a little cleaning in the bathroom. Not a good follow up to the 1:50 half and it looks like I might have to cancel the napa. Suck! I must be hosting an alien parasite...

Saturday, February 09, 2008

Oh hair!

Snowing at ORD and my flight's supposed to be on time. I'm skeptical yet hopeful.

Word of the day: whorenament. Discuss.

Friday, February 08, 2008

You Don't Get It

Due to some corrupting influences from certain rogues at my place of work, I've been running a lot more recently. Scratch that. I've been on an honest-to-Zoroaster training program for the Napa Valley Marathon in March, once again courting black toe, ITBS, and plantar fasciitis. Yet I really do enjoy running immensely, those biomechanically ominous terms notwithstanding. My last Marathon had me at about 10:45 minutes per mile and I just recently ran a half marathon at 8:20 minutes per mile. That's definitely progress in the right direction.

Given that I continue to run though, it would seem obvious that I enjoy running. It's not like somebody is blackmailing me into running. My son isn't in danger of being pooped on by wild boars in the Siberian woods if I don't run and even if he were, I would more likely question that I had a son at all because last time I checked no offspring had sprung from my loins. So I must like running. That seems to be a simple, reasonable, logically sound deduction.

It is also the one basic truth that is continuously questioned. Kind of stupidly. No, that's too strong of a word but let me explain with a dialogue:

Somebody: Why do you run?
Me: Because I think it's fun!
Somebody: But it doesn't seem like it's fun to me.
Me: Perhaps not, but it's fun to me.
Somebody: Yeah, but why do you do it, it's not fun!
Me: IS fun to me...
Somebody: I don't believe running is fun! Explain to me why you would do something that is not fun, ignoring your own views. Also, I'm right, you're wrong. Now justify why you're right.
Me: *runs*

It's not that I look down upon people who don't run. Being a couch potato or playing the saxophone are perfectly wonderful alternatives to running. It's not my place to judge. But you can't adopt the premise that running is painful and not fun and then ask me to justify myself. It would be like asking me why I enjoy being Asian because doesn't it suck to be Chinese? Or why do I enjoy playing the piano when it is so boring compared to OMGHALO3ROXORZ!!1!!eleventyone!?! on the XBoxDegreesInACircle?

Next time somebody asks me that question I should just give in. I am a masochist. I enjoy pain. My favorite activity on Saturdays is to be sodomized by butch dominatrices in leather while listening to the Mozart Requiem being played in D Major. While running.