Oh. Maybe that was it. By the time you got to the bottom of that thing, you'd already begun to string yourself up to the rafters with your network cable.
I get it. I'm not offended.
Meanwhile - Running naked - isn't that an interesting and riveting post title? I thought so.
I thought so while I was running along, all naked of the wrist, head and back, being thankful for a nice, non-stressful run where I was simultaneously not timing myself, shading my eyes from the scorching sun ball or sucking hosey water from my self-mounted Camelbak.
Post-race running is the best! Because of the nakedness!
And also because, now that it's fall, the weather is acceptable to me and does not require me to cover my head in a sweaty hot hat or dodge from one side of the street to the other in my ongoing quest for shade.
And then sometimes, when I'm really lucky, I have The Best Run Ever because it's foggy and chilly and sorta drizzly when I set out for my Saturday morning shortish-long run (6M) after sleeping in to the positively restful hour of 8am.
Oh yeah, it was the best - last weekend's shortish-long run. And also where I thought up that lovely and intriguing post title that you all could have cared less about. WHORES!
Kidding. I love you still. In that way where you still love your friend even after she ditches you at the bar and takes a cab home without telling you she's leaving but then texts you in the morning to be like, "Hey! I'm at Taco Bell. Do you want anything?" And because you're so hung over from your extra fifteen minutes of drinking that you forgive her because, after all, she is a nice chick who lends you her cute purse because it matches your outfit and, well, she's about to bring The Great Healer of Hangovers, Taco Bell, right to your doorstep. You feel sorta like a sell-out, but you really want a Crunchwrap Supreme, so you let it go. Still loving her, but hating yourself a little bit at the same time and feeling ashamed you're about to eat something as horrific-ly bad for you as a Crunchwrap Supreme.
You know what I mean.
And, just to refresh your memory, I was talking about my awesome run before I went off about Taco Bell. Sorry. I guess I'm feeling a little random today.
SO - The Best Run Ever - which was the other tantalizing-yet-ignored comment from yesterday's post was, indeed, quite good.
And since I haven't really said much about running since my last half concluded back in the first week of October, I felt I should give some sort of update so that you didn't think I'd hauled off and eaten myself into a chocolate-cake and apple-pie induced coma.
First, in a string of running type updates about which I feel you should be aware, it has become cold out in the morning hours. To the point where I've resumed wearing my fruity running tights and long-sleeves. And, during a moment of clarity while outlet shopping with the girls, I snatched up a pair of running gloves at a nice little price and have found that they are, indeed, something I needed very much.
Which is in stark contrast to what my doubtful mind had me thinking for, oh, the last three winters of running as I repeatedly visited the Athleta site and monitor-molested the gloves they have for sale.
I was, like, $27 for gloves? Come, now. That's ridiculous. They're just going to get all sweaty and boogery (don't act like your nose doesn't run when you're out in the cold) and gross and that's no way to treat an item that costs $27. I'll just let my hands warm up as I run. In fact, that will maybe motivate me to run faster.
Um, no. All these reasons are stupid. The gloves I got are great and are, RIGHT NOW, improving my life as they dry out from this morning's short three miler. I love them, is what I'm saying, and I can't believe I tortured myself for three winters when they could have been had for so little cash.
Meanwhile, I am a little proud that I held out and got the Nike ones for less than $20 because they also have a key pocket on the palm and a soft nose-wiper on the thumb. Handy and gross! Plus, I look like I think I'm a superhero or something wearing these things with my tights and my breathy long-sleeve top and we all know how much I like looking like a fucking idiot while running slowly around town.
So, whatever, it's not my favorite time of the year for running attire, but it does mean that the likelihood that I'll be running in the fog rather than under the blast furnace of an angry sun is very good. I like that. Running in the fog. Though, when it's foggy like it was last weekend, to the point where it has begun to drizzle, it means I can't wear my sunglasses without them hazing up.
I have yet to come across a pair of acceptable shades with a good set of lens-mounted wipers, so I'm left to prop these babies on my head and wait until the drizzle passes. Which it did last weekend, at about mile 5.5. Which - big whoop - because I was only out for an hour, which equates to 6 miles. Oh well. Small price to pay for an hour of foggy running goodness.
Another helpful update, more for me than you (sorry), is that I broke down and got another pair of my regular running shoes even though I said some things about moving over to trail running after last month's race.
Well, so you know, I haven't taken my show on the trail yet, so to speak. I figure that will probably come sometime in the spring when I have the wherewithal to drive to a running location rather than just run out my front door onto the paved streets of San Jose.
Plus, and this is pretty mind-bending for me, I'm back to enjoying my runs. Like, I don't begin to dread my Saturday morning long runs on, like, Wednesday, because I'm only going out for six miles and WHATEVER I'll be back in an hour, so no need to call out the cavalry if I don't drag my lifeless corpse back down the driveway in two and a half hours.
Which is what it starts to get like at the end of my half marathon trainings. It's all dramatic and annoying and I'm sure Bubba wants to stab me when I start clanging around in the kitchen at 5am so that I can get in the miles before the heat takes over.
No - now it's like super easy. And I've been expanding the ease at which I partake in my shortish-long runs by not only dissing the Camelbak and Luna Moons, but also leaving my watch behind (don't worry, we'll be back to Garmin-fueled running in no time) and forgetting the hat.
All these things make me feel more like I'm out doing something I want to do rather than something I've forced myself to do because one day I got all Big Ballsy and signed up for another half marathon because it seemed, like, so far away what's the big deal?
I can be such a jerk sometimes.
Anyway, I guess that's it for running updates. It's cold, I'm dressed like a freak, I have new gloves and shoes that don't leave my shins ON FIRE with splints and in a few weeks I'll go back out and trot for turkeys so that I can eat fries on the way to my mom's for Thanksgiving dinner.
Hey - at least we're consistent around here.