Errata

A few spare notes about my recent posts, which didn't make it in thanks to non-relevance or forgetfulness on my part or, mostly, space. Honestly, thanks to everyone who read the running post. I know it wasn't easy. It took Emet three days to get through it and she likes me more than you guys (most days). I had another 800 or so words in there that I took out, too. So, you're welcome for that.

I figured one thing out a few days later about the running and that is that I was not prepared for the mental aspect of it. The discipline, I got, but more in the manner of "doing" the run, rather than "running" the run. By that I mean I didn't have any problem doing each of my runs. I did have a problem varying them, both in the way I ran them and where I ran them. Too much of it was the same and that contributed to a less enjoying experience--as I alluded to. The experience of actually running was less enjoyable because I didn't have a plan most of the time, aside from, "Hey! I have to run 2.5 miles tomorrow."

What illuminated this was the way I attacked the actual race. I had a plan. And I ended up way better than that plan. Because I kept my brain focused on what I was doing--pace, form, positive thinking. Beyond that, there's the mental strength to overcome the pain, which I also talked about. So yeah, I think that will help going forward.

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I had mentioned on Twitter (and shown a pic on Facebook) that the results showed I finished in 3rd place in my age group and 38th overall. I found both of those statistics to be shocking and somewhat ridiculous and it turns out I was right. They had some issues with the timing and when the official results were posted a few days later, I was listed 8th amongst the 40-49 males of the Inland Empire (and 62nd overall), which is fine and appropriate and doesn't bother me at all. Except for missing 7th by eight-tenths of a second. I could have totally caught that guy.

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The Magic Baby post over at Ocelot Sports is probably my favorite thing I've written in I don't know how long. It just ran out of me and was mostly done in 15 minutes and ready to post with a couple tweaks here and there which is really fun when it happens to a writer but also terrible if one forgets to even think of including a couple salient facts, which is what I did by not mentioning that the very idea of a Magic Baby was first given voice by Dawn, who asked to rent him out for a Yale/Harvard game and then became an Early Adopter of his Gospel and I should have noted that, since she is the sole reason he's become a worldwide phenomenon and also so she wouldn't have sub-tweeted the ever-loving shit out of me.

Having said that, I don't think she became a True Believer until the Magic Baby whooped up on Tawmmy and Giselle's ugly ass kid.

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The Rooster was trolling me the other day, because he likes to do that (randomly, inexplicably). Here's what he said:

Light the candles...pull out the old pen and paper...and write

bleed on the paper again, Speaker.

go to that dark place

I can dig that. I know everybody liked my train wreck of a life and I did too, in a way. If I wasn't able to throw all of that shit out there, get it into the light of day, so I could a) deal with it and b) figure out a bunch of it didn't matter so I wouldn't have to deal with it, I would not have been able to get to where I am now which is such a gift (just like life! So wrap yourself carefully!). But nobody wants to hear that happy crappy shit. And I certainly don't want to write it. Partly because I'm not a big fan of bringing the sappy, but also because I like having it for me and those close to me. So, you know, The Rooster can go fuck himself.

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Me: (Screaming at the TV with the sports people running fast)
Emet: Are you calling him 'La-Mike?'"
Me: Yeah. His name is LaMichael James.
Emet: (Pause...beleaguered look) You're an idiot.