This is why I can’t be a blogger. I don’t blog nearly enough for anyone who may actually be reading this to keep up with it. I didn’t run over the weekend, but ran yesterday, a slow seven miler on the treadmill, which, if you haven’t done much treadmill running, is equal to death. I was so bored that I started counting the seconds down after the start of every minute. I guess it’s all practice for all these “Marathon Mindgames” I’ve heard so much about.
Tomorrow I’m running a turkey trot in Rochester. If I wake up for it that is. One of the greatest frustrations I have with my brother is that he constantly underestimates how long it will take to get anywhere and then overcompensates by being a total ass about how it’s not his fault that he’s late – there was traffic, obviously. As if traffic is a foreign concept to him living in New York City. On Thanksgiving. Anyway, it is now 9pm (I’m saving this on the Mac before I post it) and we are still about 3 hours from our destination. Perfect. Just the kind of night’s sleep I was hoping for before running 4.4 miles.
Moving away from running just a bit (because in my first blog, I promised I’d divulge any fantastic gossip about my love that may take place), I am going to London in January. To see a boy. Okay, well not only to see a boy but the impetus of this sort of impromptu international trip was the fact that said boy offered my friend Alex and I free accommodations at his flat in London, whenever we wanted. Tickets were booked within days. Do I have to sleep with him? Probably. Do I care? Not in the least. There’s a good chance we’ll get a few meals out of it as well so I’m 100% in it to win it. I’ve slept with people for less.
Now the trick will be not to let anyone who would disapprove (and that’s everyone that I know) find out that I’m going to London for the reasons detailed above. We’ll see what happens.
Make you a deal. You keep reading, I’ll keep running