Posts Tagged ‘The Capitol Building’

Know Your DC Water Fountains (Vol. 2)

Drink up, Brownie. The Code Pink protesters are comin' and we wanna ogle us some bosoms.

WEATHER: Beautiful and warm.

MILES: Once again, 0, because apparently I only blog on days I don’t run.

MILES THIS WEEK: 13-14ish.

WHERE TO: The depths of Hell itself.

MOOD: <bangs head on table>


I apologize for the lag time between posts.  We’re gonna get it right one of these days.  This time, the excuse is that life vomited all over my shoes last week.  I won’t go into details, so I’ll let you fill in the blanks (dead parakeet, I dumped one of my 9 hotties, dead wallaby, every student loan in the UNIVERSE (including those for which I did not sign up) came due, dead marmot, accidentally foffed (fart-coughed, DUHHH) during an important work meeting).  So I had considered writing a post about how running can help you cope, how the cool air rushing about your limbs can help you shake off the malaise of even the most pitiful miserable existence as you jog up Massachusetts Ave. and clutch your hands to your chest and know that heartbreak is going to wash off your skin like oh shit no I can’t do it I’m trying to be serious but here it comes


Nope.  Earnestness just isn’t gonna work.  So today it’s once again time for:


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Dirty Little Secrets


MILES: Yeah…about that…



WHERE TO: Down N. Capitol St., around the Capitol Building, down the Mall, back home.

MOOD: Grumpy — cold coming on, knee injury coming back.


Dirty Dancing

Come 'ere, lover. We gotta talk.

Alright, readers.  We’ve known each other a while — you know a bit about me, I’ve shared my life and dreams with you, you’ve let me feel you up a few times.  Things are good.

But, baby, sit down.  It’s time we talked.  See, I haven’t been entirely…honest about a few things.  I know every day I give you my mile count, show you my dedication, tell you how my day went…

…but OK.  I’m just gonna say it: I don’t actually know the distance I’ve run on any given day.  To be honest, I just sort of guess. <knits fingers together, twists them nervously>  Now, now, don’t look at me that way.  I think I’ve been overestimating!  Like, I run for 45 minutes and I write it down as 5 miles, but you and I both know it’s more than that.  Because, <heh>, when was the last time I needed 45 minutes to-

Aw, hey.  Don’t do that.  Take your pants back off.  Come on.  I can ‘splain.  Oh, for the love of God.  Get back here.  How am I supposed to know distances in DC? I never told you I WAS measuring, anyhow.  I didn’t lie!  I mean, yeah, I could go to some sort of distance-plotting site, but it takes so long and ruins the mood, and it just FEELS better this way, you know?

Oh, hey.  Hey.  It’s gonna be OK.  We’re still gonna do this marathon together, you and me, and it’s gonna be great.  Now you know.  And aren’t you glad I was honest?

Do you still respect me?

<reaches out, touches your face tenderly>

C’mon.  C’mere.  Yeah.  That’s it.

<wraps arms around you, buries face in your neck, comforted>

Good.  OK.  Because I have a few other things to add.  Really minor.  Just general confessions.  Like I have several times relieved myself in non-port-a-potty places in DC.  And I did it all the time in Minneapolis, too.

There.  That feels better.  Oh and also while I’m confessing I stole a few energy gels from your sock drawer when you weren’t looking but they were the gross orange kind you like the least anyway and I pee in the shower sometimes but it goes all to the same place anyway and I spat in your leftover chili that one time when I was mad at you for leaving your goddamn hairs all over the bathroom sink again and I drew some really filthy pictures in the margins of your Bible and oh once or OK a few times I ateyourReddiWhipfromThanksgivingstraightfromthecanintomymouth andthecanhasbeeninthefridgeeversincebutyoudon’tseemtonotice.

I feel better.  Now.  Show me your hoo-hah.