runner's high

So I've finished a week of marathon training, and I have to say that I'm sort of addicted. I say sort of because when I think about it, the idea of running sounds absolutely abysmal, but then, when I actually do it, the endorphins kick in, and I am ready to run the marathon right then and there.

I spent $300 at the running store, and I have to say that it was the best $300 ever spent. My shoes make all the difference, and I am absolutely in love with my jog bra. Truly, the jog bra is the greatest invention ever, especially when it is made from dry fit material. And, I'm diggin the little pocket in my shorts and the built in granny panties. They rock. Add to that my singlet and a couple of pairs of socks, and I am the best dressed worst runner in history! Wahoo!

So this week we've run a total of 9 miles plus a cross training. I did the 9 miles, but I have to say that sadly, my cross training tonight consisted of lifting a carafe of wine to my mouth with tshirts. I'm home now, and if I want to get my ass up at 6am to run, I'd better not do the yoga I had intended. Ok, so I missed one training session, but that's better than I thought I'd do. I just hope I show up at the right place bc I didn't get on the distribution list for some reason so I have no idea where to go train, and no one will call me back.

So that's my life: running and working. I saw a movie last night, which was fun, and I hope to go out tomorrow night and blow off some steam, since I'm sure I'll have a runner's high after my 4 mile run tomorrow. Edgy and I have gone from occasionally dating to not seeing each other at all now, and really, for the first time, I'm ok with it--not good, but ok. It is what it is, right? Why waste my life on someone who just truly can't love me right now? Someone out there must have the ability.

Grotesque ode to Aldrich, King, and Monty Python

Photo from http://my.execpc.com/~reva/babyjfotos.htm

Our story starts on a dark staircase. Wine in hand, we ascend the steps of what seems to be the location of a dinner party. Little do we know, insanity lurks in every shadowed corner. A troll, the bridge keeper of sorts, accosts us: "What is your name? What is your quest?" Glinda, like Lancelot, brings forth the Holy Malbec, and with, "Right, off you go," the bridge keeper troll lets her through. Edgy and I, however, are stopped by the troll with the same questions. I point at the Holy Malbec, and she grunts, "Are there two other bottles in that bag?" I nod: "African and European". "Fine," she utters with a suspicious bulging of the eyes.

Next, we enter the house, cryptic and twisted. Our host, though amiable, leads us to her secret chamber, the clown room. Pictures of clowns adorn the walls--tramps with hollowed sockets, circus performers with faces melting in LSD illumination, tiny clowns suspended from the air in cords or smashed beneath endtable glass, their lipsticked mouths dissolving. I could feel Pennywise's breath on the nape of my neck.

We return to the staircase. The troll emerges from the fog with more questions, "Where did you spend your first 7 years of life? Why don't you have an accent?" I made the mistake of telling her that my grammar school was parochial and that they beat the accent out of me. "How dare you profane this place with your presence! " She turns to Glinda, before ejecting me from the bridge: "Are you responsible for these two?" Glinda nods, as Lancelot would, "In truth, yes." "And you," she turns to Edgy, "What are you?"
"My accessory," I chide.
"A permanent one?"
"Well, ye.."
"NOTHING IS PERMANENT!"
"Well, hello sunshine" [Glinda's first verbal mistake].
"I'm only telling the truth," the troll growls, "I only speak the truth. I have impulse control issues."
"So thaaaats what it's called." [Glinda's second verbal blunder].
"It is. I'm a shrink, and I have impulse control issues. Always have. It's what I do."

It's at this point, I motion Glinda into the other room, and she turns to the troll with foot in mouth, "We're going to get something to drink." The troll glares at her, "I understand." As I look back, before she turns to engage Edgy in conversation, I distinctly see her painting her lips in a circular motion. "I'm Mama's little devil." Yes, yuh aaah, troll, yuh aaah!