WEATHER: I want to shower every 5 minutes.
MILES THIS WEEK: 15
WHERE TO: Adams Morgan, National Cathedral, Georgetown, Dupont Circle.
It has been too long since my last post, a fact that was sloshing around in my head as I trotted through Georgetown this morning. And then the universe gave me something to write about.
I saw this dude with no shirt, red shorts. From the back and two blocks away, he looked to be about 45 or so (can I tell? YES I CAN.). And magically, it always seems to be the quick, sinewy, middle-aged-dudes who go about my speed, so I thought this would be the perfect rabbit for me to chase for my last few miles. I picked up the pace, springing along at a good clip, ready for the thrill of the chase, the joy of catching another runner, the lovely wild and free sensation, lalala.
“I will write tonight about the thrill of the chase, the joy of catching another runner, the lovely WHY ARE MY FEET DUMBASSES OH NOOOOOOO…”
And soon I was skidding along Q Street, my feet having caught a sidewalk brick that was just the teeeenist bit out of place, which sent me stumbling and spinning along so that, by the time I got a hold of myself and the momentum had stopped, I had scrapes along my ankle, hip, elbow, hand, shoulder, and somehow my right shoulder blade. Furthermore, I am both proud and ashamed to say that I was going so fast that I’m pretty sure I bounced.
So I stood, wiped off the grit, inspected the damage, and was horrified to see a woman walking toward me with her dog baaaawwwwww someone saw that!
This very well-dressed, white-haired, glassy-eyed lady walked up and said placidly, “It’s a beautiful morning for a run!”
Whoa. Hey. Is this broad messing with me? <Irony scan> Huh. No…..
ME: <picking gravel out of my upper thigh/ass> Yes…yes…beautiful…?
SHE: <not even really catching my eye, continuing walking past> Just beautiful! Much better than yesterday!
ME: <dabbing at blood> Um…a little help?
SHE: <humming contentedly, wandering off>
I suppose I’m a little at a loss for what the moral of all this is, or if there is some deeper hidden meaning to this story, or if I need to justify even why I told it to you at all, blog-readers. Except to merely point out that this is what I go through just to put up blog posts to entertain you, and it’s a thankless job I tell you what, and you just come home and put your feet up and ask where’s dinner, where’s the paper, where’s my blog post well HERE! Your dinner is burned, the dog pooped on and then ate your paper, my body is scarred and ruined, but oh well, at least your BLOG POST IS DONE BAAAAAAAAAAA <sniffle> THINGS USED TO BE DIFFERENT WITH US! We used to just stay up all night cuddling, remember? Wasn’t that great? There are other ways to be intimate, you know! <face in hands, wailing>
Oh, by the way, The Mountie has a new blog, and you should read it. In it, she chronicles her summer in Alaska — living, learning, loving, and only occasionally being eaten by polar bears and penguins.