One of the major duckface pioneers.
WEATHER: Meh. Dull and gray.
MILES THIS WEEK: 40? Maybe?
WHERE TO: Georgetown, to do ALL MY CHRISTMAS SHOPPING IN ONE GO. I FEEL ALIIIIIIVE.
MOOD: Consumerist and dirty.
So there I am, sitting at my desk at work, minding my own business, when suddenly on my screen there appears a gchat message from Mr. Cool himself. More specifically, it is a link.
“Tralala!” I said, clicking on the link in a happy-go-lucky, devil-may-care fashion as I took a much-needed respite from my day at work, sitting at my NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO.
Hey. I got an idea. Attach these to your shoes and run and try not to feel homicidal. Go on. Do it.
MILES: None. BOOM.
MILES THIS WEEK: Honestly, do you care? Especially if I don’t? Jerkface.
WHERE TO: Nowhere today, but yesterday…the Jingle All The Way 10K!
MOOD: Unnnnnngh. <shiver>
There are ruts, dear readers, and then there are Ruts. Ruts with a capital R and 10-foot concrete walls on each side with no footholds to allow you to scramble out and scurry away. Ruts created by having run the greatest race of your life and then having written happy fun blog posts about it and having fallen increasingly in love with hundreds of people, especially the residents of Hagerstown, Maryland, in the process. And then realizing that your life no longer has purpose. No goals. No future plans. <choking bourgeois sob> Ruts that can only be broken out of when you are at the Red Derby on your birthday a little over a week ago with your college friend Mr. Cool thrusting two tequila shots into your hands and also saying, “ARE YOU SO PUMPED FOR THE JINGLE ALL THE WAY 10K?”