But after I ran it (I PR'd, BITCHEZ!1!1!), I foolishly wrote on this other blog I used to have (which few people read, also) that, though I was not unhappy with my time in the race, I thought I could run a faster 10k than I had that day. Well, now, that's a pretty fucking stupid thing to put in writing, and even though I deleted the shit outta that particular blog long ago, the good people at Google, whose Eponymous Reader most of you use, have a slightly different definition of "delete" from , well ... let's just say "the marginally literate world", and so nothing — NOTHING — ever gets deleted from Google Reader unless you unsubscribe from it.
Believe me on this, because, after reading the cringe-inducing archives of that old blog, I tried everything to get GR to let go. But GR is all, "O, Baby, I know you don't mean it, I know you don't really wanna break up with me, so I'm just gonna ignore all your threats & imprecations — you're soooo cute when you tell me to 'Go Fuck Myself' or to engage in other improbable sodomite activities! — and I'll just keep you forever and ever because I <3 U. Lookee here! While you were sleeping, I trimmed your n*ts@ck hair and made these here potholders ..."
Now, I have no reason to believe that anyone would still be subscribed to that blog after all these months — it's hard to imagine how anyone could possibly be that fucktardedly stubborn and even harder to imagine why — but it is a possibility, albeit a remote one, and so therefore ...
I feel I have an obligation to try to beat last year's time in this upcoming 10k because the old time is out there along with my stupid-ass rumination that I could better it.
Hence my need to do more Kankle Runs, because a 9:24 pace just isn't going to cut it.
This fucking sucks. Why can't I just keep my Big Stupid Keyboardhole shut?
I have nothing but anecdotal evidence (and precious little of that) to suggest that Kankle Runs in fact contribute anything toward making a person (i.e., me) faster; but I figure anecdotal evidence is better than no evidence; and sacerdotal evidence is better than anecdotal evidence; and, of course, n*ts@ckerdotal evidence is the best evidence of all.
But, on the burning issue of Kankle Runs, my n*ts@ck, alas, has nothing of use to impart to me. So all's I gotz is this anecdotal evidence.
So next week, I figure, I gotta start doing one Kankle Run per week. I might even start this week.
As I said in an UPDATE to yesterday's post, they got the times up for the 5-mile trail run yesterday. That's pretty quick. They got the race photos up even quicker.
Until the times went up, I had no idea who won or how fast they went or who won the AG awards, etc., because I had to leave before all of that because My Boy, Ian, won an Art Award for his Twittering Machine and we had to attend the reception they held for him! (And a few other young award-winning artists.)
Here is Ian standing in front of his Twittering Machine (above him). It's hanging right now in a museum in our mid-Northish Joisey county!
Since you can't see the work that well in the pic above (the camera blurred it), here it is alone. Ian's Twittering Machine is turning garbage into books.
Teh 'Bride and I are VERY proud of him! Our own little Paul Klee!_______
1 "Prove" here being employed in neither the scientific nor logical sense, but more in the "this doesn't prove a fucking thing" sense; aka, Teh Faux News sense.