Posts Tagged ‘Chill the f**k out’

Hooray for The Bear!


The Bear is running THIS!

Look! There she goes!

WEATHER: Warming up — 32ish!

MILES: 10.5

MILES THIS WEEK: 42.5

MILES THIS MONTH: 100

WHERE TO: Georgetown, Glover Park, blah, blah…

MOOD: Chipper but feeling a cold coming on.

ADDITIONAL NOTES:

My run this morning was wonderful.  Yay!  But today we have more important matters to tend to.

Because today, dear readers, we celebrate new runners everywhere by wishing good luck to a lovely woman (and this blog’s top commenter) who I will simply call The Bear (which has much more to do with her little commenter icon than her looks) (which are SMOKIN’ and not at all bear-like).

You see, The Bear is running her first race this weekend — P.F. Chang’s Rock ‘n’ Roll Half-Marathon in Phoenix, Arizona. And as she is a dear friend and a truly wonderful person, I have composed a poem for The Bear…13 lines in length, even, to propel her though 13 miles of sheer Arizonan sunny BLISS!

TO THE BEAR ON YOUR FIRST HALF-MARATHON:

Roses are red,

Your toenails are black.

Your sports bra is kickin’;

Your skivvies are wack.

*

Your nipples won’t chafe

Because you’re not a guy.

If you crap yourself,

Try not to cry.

*

I hope you kick ass

When you run P.F. Chang’s.

Did you know that “chang’s”

Also rhymes with “wangs”?

*

(…because it does.)

————————–

New runners!  Unite!  Run a race!  And someday you, too, can be the recipient of a lovely rhyming poem that inspires and motivates you and also includes the word “wang.”

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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