So I finished my second official 5K yesterday. (Yep, I said second.) That’s 3.1 miles to those of you who, like me, wonder why runners insist on using the metric system. The beauty of it is not so much my finish time, which is mediocre at best, but the fact that I shaved almost four minutes off my finish time from the first one I did back in May.
So, it’s roughly 6,000º F outside and the humidity is 900 percent. What I use to call skin is now a layer of goo about a quarter of an inch thick that is slowly melting away. And I have taken on the unmistakable look of someone who lives under a bridge with my hair in a matted mess on top of my head.
A man can go days without uttering a word. Sit two guys in an empty room for a week and grunts, farts and hand gestures will satisfy any necessity for communication. I once drove from Eglin AFB, Fla., to Washington, D.C., with another guy and the only words exchanged in that 13-hour trip went like this:
I had a thought-provoking piece on religion and its inevitable path to obscurity but, it seems that the mini-Mac I saved the document on (along with everything else I have developed since last June) crashed and burned and apparently has little chance of recovery. So, I thought I would share a few things that I find interesting.
It’s official. I’m old. Well, my left leg is anyway. The actual age of my knee is 26, but lately it has felt like it’s around 90. And today I had to go to the doctor to look at said knee, which has plagued me for nine years.
The good news is, I am still able to run, but trying to explain about how I hurt my knee in the first place has always been a bit interesting.
The Da Vinci Goad
Nothing will send a novel to the top of the best seller list faster than a controversy. Tell the masses not to buy a book and they will immediately wipe out the inventory of every major bookseller outlet. So I am sure nothing made The Da Vinci Code author Dan Brown more happy than when he read the latest criticism of his novel on the news wire:
Are my legs supposed to hurt this much?
No, really. I have started walking like an 85-year-old woman with osteoporosis. I didn’t think it was possible to be this sore. OK, maybe that’s an exaggeration. I know it’s possible to be in a lot more pain, but I figured my lungs would go into shock long before my legs did.
It’s so quiet.
Although, I have to say, I’m pretty torn about how I feel about that. The day-to-day hustle and bustle has already died down and things are quite serene on the third floor. And in the quiet (but far from peaceful) moments, I have time to focus on how sore my legs are from the four miles I walked yesterday.
Florida’s Official Pie
Fierce debate broke out in the Florida House this week over… Pie!
Yes, I said pie.
The circular pastries, which have become synonymous with Southern dining, took over the State Congress forcing representatives to choose which cuisine would reign supreme! Pecan pie? Nah, too Georgia-ish.
So, the summer is almost here — for Flagler students anyway. I never really appreciated getting out so early for the summer while I was a student here. At least I don’t think I fully appreciated it. Now as I sit here thinking about the…