How to Run Like Me!

Wake up, late.  Anything earlier than 9 is very optimistic.  Tell your wonderful boyfriend all the things you plan on doing today, including cleaning both bathrooms and moving rocks around in the yard (a frequent activity around here).  How you plan on being a rockstar girlfriend.  Make a list of the many things you'll get completed today.  Think about running.  Wander over to the computer and spend the next hours adrift on websites and blogs.  Feel it's suddenly vital to post something to your neglected blog, after over a month of inactivity.  Fret.  Post.  Immediately and repeatedly, check for comments . . . Emz for the win, in 3 minutes!

Think about running some more.

Boil some pasta, fold clothes and spend more time doing nothing on the computer.  Read.  Realize it's 2:30.  Nothing's done, no cleaning, no rock moving, you could always start on that . . .

OK, gonna go running now.

Spend no less than 20 minutes wandering around getting items.  Mostly looking for running socks.  Get your running clothes all together, start getting dressed, realize you already have running socks on.  Sigh. Fiddle with everything for another 20 minutes.  Water, belt, music.  Headphones.  String headphones around your clothes in a method only you understand.  Realize you've done it for the wrong hydration system.  Re-string headphones.  Put on belt.  Realize you're driving to your running destination, belt must come off.  Undo headphones.  Water, belt, music, put on shoes.  Take off shoes.  Take a crap.  Shoes back on.  Put belt and headphone assembly on without realizing it.  Walk on newly stained (and wet) deck.  Curse.  Retrace steps, crawl through the woods (avoiding deck) to the car.  Undo headphones and belt.  Drive a mile to the trailhead.  One mile.

Sit in car and continue to get ready.  Take single key off of key ring, put on belt, string headphones.  Sip of water, inhaler puff, get out of car.  Realize headphones are caught up in seatbelt, re-string.  Curse.  Begin to doubt ability to function as human being.  Lock car, double tie shoes, press "play" and hear Play That Funky Music, run 100 yards.  Stop and remember to start the Garmin.  Run another 100 yards.  Stop and fiddle with waist belt, phone.  Run 300 yards.  Stop and pee.  Walk a few steps, then continue running.  Run 500 yards!  Trip and fall, tucking and rolling in the dust.  Giggle.  Sit in the middle of the trail for a few minutes, then get up and run some more.  Hack and cough and feel short of breath.  Stop and restart the Garmin again (stopped after the fall -- you wouldn't want to mess up your speedy times now, would you?).  Run another 500 yards, stop.  Pee.  Blow your nose.  Run a little more (oooh, quarter mile?).  Take some walking steps, because you deserve it.  Pee again.  Run some more, stop and look at the pretty view, have a sip of water. Try to tell yourself other runners do this, too.  Fail to be convincing.  Continue to fiddle and dwaddle for two miles.  Pee again.  Finally start to "feel" the run and get on with it (knowing that "getting on with it" doesn't mean you'll actually run any faster, just means that you cut down on the dwadling.  Somewhat.)  Sing along, loudly! (and wildly off-key), to your 70s soundtrack, sometimes throwing in dance steps and jazz hands.  Hope no one sees you.  Leap! off the trail in a flurry of clutzyness when a mt biker comes up behind you, startling you out of your Cher chorus.  Trip again, pee again.  Think about turning around at least 3 times.  Run, run run.

Reach the car, bleep! off with Gary, hack up a lunger.  Think about stretching, but don't.  Take 3 minutes to find car key (which is in the same pocket it always is).  Get in car.  Drop and pick up key.  Close car door on dangling earphones.  Sigh.

Think about how none of your plans for the day happened, and you've just left more chores to cram into the next day.

Try to convince yourself that you are, indeed, a rockstar.  For running.

For running four whole miles!

Fail.