About all I hear anymore (credit)
Since my schedule and the weather does not leave much room to enjoy this hobby of running, yesterday was a bit of a treat. At 8:30am, emailed the wife to let her know that a 5K run was in the works after work. At noon, it was the only thing I looked forward to as people continued to enjoy the fact that my mailbox was allowed to receive electronic messages and spat out replies like a good little corporate drone. Highway 169 on the way home looked like someone mistook the Minnesota sheet of asphalt for Kabul as cars swayed to miss the craters left by this state’s wonderful winter.
Stretchy pant, stretchy shirt, adjust dick to comfortable position, another stretchy shirt, track pants, and a light jacket top with a hat and Freddie Mercury screaming to ride his bicycle. READY FOR SERIOUS RUNNING!
Then the wind hit. It was cold. It is always cold. So cold. My jaw froze into a state like I just saw a naked Kate Upton trampoline video. Blowing a hot breath into my jacket gave temporary relief but I was too out of it to bother grabbing even more layers. After rounding the block’s corner my body said to turn back. After reaching the 5K with most of it through a nasty headwind it said thank you in a winded voice.
God bless the hand bra (credit)
The conscious thought tank has been empty for a while but something has this lanky form separating the sheets each morning instead of looking at the black numbers starting with a four against the grayish glow and burying my face back into the one warm spot in the house. Thus begins the double digit countdown tomorrow and only a week and half before some required degeneracy in Vegas will strip away this tired shell for the final push.