I could tell you that I was hugely pissed at today's run--incredulous that I could run 14 miles at an 8:00-pace a month ago but barely eeked out 12 at an 8:50 this morning. What gives?
I could tell you that I got my trail shoes and my 2-liter hydration pack and that they are both the same shade of teal, which will make me look like the dorkiest neophyte in the outback, a Miami Vice trail runner trying to make teal the new khaki. All of Australia's Northern Territory will call me The--gasp, dare I say it--American.I could tell you that I am even more convinced that Kara Goucher is my destined BFF after hearing her Endurance Boost on iTunes. We could rock out to Beck and Black Eyed Peas while talking about how really, it's brunettes who have more fun.
I swear I'm not stalking her.
I could tell you that I outdid myself when it comes to crappy Father's Day efforts. Last year I gave Brian candy. This year, I left with his kid for the summer, and he spent the day alone working at Starbucks. Man, when I write it, it does sound kind of awful. Looking up 'stripper' on yellowpages.com tonight...
I could tell you that there is no hot yoga offered anywhere in Central Pennsylvania. This bums me out in a spoiled-Masshole-suburbanite sort of way.
I could tell you that Central Pennsylvania has Starbucks INSIDE the Target, which is so sublime I can forgive the yoga thing.
I could tell you that my new daily running route passes a llama farm, but there's probably only one of you who would be interested in that. The farm also has a peacock, but that's not very interesting, either.
As you can see, I, for once, have very little to say. It's almost like asking for a running injury, so for the love of God and blogland, somebody send me some free crap to review.
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3 comments:
Well, maybe I can shed some light on the ostrich/peacock connection. My dad (Happy Father's Day!), tells the story of how he went to visit an eccentric (read: rich) neighbor to ask for money for the arts council he (dad) was running. Being eccentric and rich, the neighbor had a collection of exotic birds on his property (ostrich, emu, and, yes, peacocks). As they were walking among the birds, my dad inquired as to how he kept all these beautiful birds safe from the coyotes that had recently infiltrated the area. "Oh, that's what the llama's for," he said. So my dad turned around to find himself face to face with a llama. In Rhode Island. Apparently, coyotes are terrified of llamas.
I hope that llama comment wasn't directed at me. You know I hate them. figures they would be buddies with a peacock. Is there a more proud (i.e. arrogant) bird on the face of the earth?
I like llamas.
That is very cool.
I have nothing to say either.
Perhaps after a maitai....
xoxoxo of course!
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