Is this a new thing? When did this happen? That it can be not raining and then, an hour later, raining cats and dogs? Because I never agreed to this arrangement.
So, anyroad, I stare outside for a moment or two and ask myself the only Question That Matters: WWSQD (What Would SteveQ Do)? And the answer seems obvious: He'd definitely run in that shit. And so it stands to reason that the only rational thing to do is abort my run, which I immediately decide to do.
It was with some regret that I made this decision because it means that I will not hit my September2 goal of 100 miles run.
And so here are my September numbers:
Running Miles: 94.42
Riding Miles on my P*ssy-@$$ Recumbently-Emo Exercise Bike: Zero3
Pathetic as that seems — I mean, five-and-a-half miles short of 100? Come on! — I think it was smart of me not to push it; because the Bigger Goal this year is to make it to 1000 miles and right now I've run 800.03, which means I have three whole months to run a mere 200 additional miles. Now, my lowest-mileage month was April, in which I ran 80.15 miles. If I average that — 80 miles per month — for the last 3 months of 2010, I will end up having run 1040 miles for the year, by my (by no means infallible) calculations. And I figure the only way I would not be able to do that is if I were to injure myself ... by, say, running in the rain at 5 in the morning when it is still pitch black outside, or, as Ian would say, "pitch African-American", because he thinks "African-American" is cognitively synonymous with "black" in all contexts, which I think might get him into trouble at some point, like if he were, say, at a diner and were to say, innocently, "Could you please pass me the African-American pepper?" which I, in my mind's eye, can actually see him doing. It doesn't end well.
So to recap: I did NOT run this morning and I "let discretion be the better part of valor", which is a saying we pussies have and adhere to almost as faithfully as we do our other saying: "Wait! Look over there! [runs pussily away]"
And so I probably won't run again until Saturday, when I have a 10k race, which, though a real race, is also a virtual race, because Barefoot Canuck Neil Z. is sponsoring this like 10-on-10/10 (his birthday) virtual race, the rules to qualify for which are ridiculously liberal, with the notable exception of the one that states that the miles (or kilometres) you run should be actual not "virtual", which seems kinda arbitrary but, then again, Neil is Kanadian, so there you go. But anyroad, those 10k on Saturday will be the 10 I run for this 10-on-10/10 thing because the miles you run for this 10-on-10/10 thing don't even have to be on October 10th, a condition that could only make sense to a Kanadian.
And so now, in honor of Ian, here's the Great Rolling Stones Song, "Paint It,4 African-American"___________
1 I'm telescoping the time-scheme here for you, which is something all of us Great Writers do, because the coffee didn't really finish brewing that quickly and I'm pretty sure you don't want to know what-all took place between the time I started the coffee and the time it finished brewing because most of it is pretty boring and marginally disgusting, what with all the n*ts@ck-scratching and horking-up of a nighttime's accumulation of phlegm and the ... um ... let's just say informal measuring of certain appendages (it grew another inch overnight!) etc.
So I spared you all of that and much more, for which you are so fucking welcome, not that I can recall your thanking me, ya buncha ingrates.
2 In truth, not merely my September goal. It's what I shoot for every month. And yet I've managed to do it only four times this years: in March, June, July and August. Got close in January and now September. But close don't cut it where I come from, which must be Pussyville because who doesn't run just because of a little rain?
3 Because Morrissey, aka my P*ssy-@$$ Recumbent Exercise Bike, is still broken and in need of welding. And even though Teh 'Bride talked to the guy at Art's Welding3a — presumably Art himself — who said we could bring it in to be welded any time, that was about a month ago and we still haven't done it.
3a (Which I for some reason insisted on calling "Creamer Smoothing" because "Art's Welding" reminded me of the company George Costanza used to work for where nothing got done, the name of which fictional company I just looked up, and it's actually Kruger Smoothing, so I was getting it wrong all along because I'm a fucktard.)
4 Yeah, this footnote is for that comma, because it's not a mistake — at least it's not my mistake; Keef claimed it was the record company's — because it's right there in the title as it appears on the record and the record's jacket, even though it, the comma, makes no sense, unless Keef and Mick were trying to tell some dude named "Black" to "Paint It", which brings up the secondary, but possibly more pressing, question: Is the titular "it" what I think it is? Because if it is, I'm here to tell all you dudes out there: Do NOT paint it, no matter how many rock stars exhort you to, because if you get paint ... let's just say inside "it", it fucking hurts and don't ask me how I know this, but let's just say I'm the voice of experience here, and leave it at that.