Chill the f**k out; I got this.


WEATHER: 22 degrees, sunny.

MILES: 5.5

MILES THIS WEEK: 21.5

MILES THIS MONTH: 79

WHERE TO: Up around the Howard U. Reservoir, down towards-but-not-quite-to Dupont Circle, back via a complicated winding route that you wouldn’t understand because it involves a lot of math.

MOOD: Ready for action.  And love.

ADDITIONAL NOTES:

Class starts tonight.  I actually sit in a Basement Gelman Library computer lab as I type this, ready to get down on some chi squares, standard deviations, and various other Greek mathy letters that will become my secret on-the-side hotties (running being my real lifemate for the next 4 months) (OK, probably more like 4 decades) until school is out.

I’m looking forward to ending grad school and being able to devote more time to running, guitar-ing, cooking, baking, etc. … so much so that I’ve already begun planning THE RAGER OF THE CENTURY for sometime in May.  If you’re in DC, swing by.  I’ll do kegstands with you.  Ooooh, so excited.  Let the countdown begin!

That rosy optimism happy rant said, I did have my first freak-out cry of the term today, having lunch w/ my fellow running friend, C-dawg.

THE CIRCUMSTANCES:

Me: <faux-confidently explaining my thesis-class-capstone-job load for the term>

C-dawg: “You have HOW much work to do this term?”

Me: <falls off chair, sobs>

C-dawg: <pats DJ’s arm>  Uh…there, there?

We’re batting 1.000 in terms of crying days:days of school ratios.  Hooray!  Batting 1.000!  That’s usually good, right?  Right.

So.  The mantra for the next 4 months: “Everybody, chill the f**k out; I got this.”  Because I do, dammit.

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