Tag: Funny

Running with E.T. August Logs.

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E.T. - The Extra Terrestrial

6:00 am, August 4, 2013: 60F. Gentle morning breeze: 3 MPH. Spectacular day for a run. I’m off. Thoughts chattering. Legs pumping but heavy. Thighs stiff. Bottoms of feet tender. All aches emanating from yesterday’s run. Marquis whispers: “Middle age is the time when a man is always thinking that in a week or two he will feel as good as ever.” Yep, that’s about right.

5:30 am, August 4, 2013: Morning weigh in. 60 days left in the Biggest Loser Challenge. I expect a bad outcome. Expectations realized. Loser! Weight: Back up 1.8. And this after yesterday’s grueling 6-mile, rain-soaking trail run with the wolf pack — slopping around in wet woods, dancing on slippery rocks, and sinking in gooey mud. Somehow escaping injury. Rambo. No, Chubby Rambo. I step (waddle) off the scale in disgust. It’s all about intake and yesterday’s feedings.* So Mr. Lewis**, when? When do I learn?

7:30 pm, August 1, 2013: Rachel returns home from work. Dragging. In a mood. She runs upstairs. Comes down. Attired in florescent, glow-in-the-dark green shorts. Matching shoes. Ear buds in. iPhone in hand. Styling!

“I’m off for a run.”
“Wait, I’m coming with you.”
“No Dad. I would rather go alone.”
“NO, I’m coming.”
“NO Dad. I don’t want you to come. I’m not interested in running a time trial.”
“Rachel, you stand right here and wait. I mean WAIT.”

She waits. We go. Road narrows. Evening traffic heavy. I slow to let her pull in front and we run single file. Her hair tightly wrapped in a single braid which bounces up and down in the center of her back. She has a graceful, confident stride. In contrast, my legs are heavy – – long day at work… 3.5 plates of pasta for dinner…laboring to keep up. I’m breathing heavy.

Continue reading “Running with E.T. August Logs.” →

SMWI*: True!

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funny-treadmill-walk-long

SMWI* = Saturday Morning Work-out Inspiration

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T.G.I.F.: Stay Cool

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Mr. Spock, Star Trek

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Monday Morning Wake-Up Call: FLY or SLEEP?

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ducks, bird,gif, cute,wings,

Source: Hungarian Soul

Running. Man and Running Dog.

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vizsla,dog,cute,animal,photography

6:50 am. 67F. 87% humidity. Mom’s gone for the weekend visiting family.  Zeke’s not happy.  Mom walks him every day.  Every single day.  Three times a day.  2 1/2 hours a day.  Daily routine – I wave to them from the couch as they head out the door.  This morning, he’s out of sync.  Discombobulated.  He sees me gearing up for a run.  He scrambles into his cage and lies down.  He’s knows what’s coming.  I grab him by his collar and drag him out of his cage.  He snarls, baring his teeth.  (I don’t need this sh*t. I don’t want to go either but we’re going.  Pure Bred Running Dog who hates running.  Owner is carrying him to the car.  What a picture this is.  He looks me in the eye – not a happy look.  I glare back.)  I shift his weight to my left and pull him tightly to my chest to free up my right hand.  I reach for the door handle of the car.  And, pull my lower back.  And grimace.  Oh, boy.  I open the door.  Heave him into the back seat.  And curse.

I fire up the car.  Shift uncomfortably in the seat.  Lower back.  Hmmmmm.

I back the car out of the garage.  Zeke climbs from the back seat to the front.  And starts licking my face.  “Sit down.  No bloody kisses.“ (He knows that I’m pi**ed.) He sits down in the passenger seat. His seat.  And sulks.

And we’re off.  Mianus Park. Plan: 5-Mile Trail Run. We arrive at the Park, leash up, and walk through the entrance.  He pulls back on the leash and lies down on the bridge.  He will not move.  He will not accept a treat.  (Oh, yes.  A test of wills.  Just what I need.)

Another dog owner walks by.  One older German Shepard Mix.  Another is a happy looking mutt with tail wagging furiously.  (Did she just give me that look?  Like, how’s that pure bred workin’ out for ya?)

I stop pulling on his leash.  He’s now lounging, looking down at the river below.  (How many shades of humiliation are there?)

I decide to pull a Mom and talk nicely to him.  “Come on buddy.  Let’s go for a nice walk in the woods.  Come on.  Let’s go.”  (Oh, for God’s sake.  I can’t do this.  Is this what I’ve come to?  Man-up.  206 lbs of fighting machine against this 70 lb beast and he’s got the upper hand.  No chance.)

I look at him.  He looks up at me.  His tail swishing on the bridge deck.  (Is he smiling? Could this be funny?)

“You are going to come.  Right now. And run.”  (Our last visit to this Park was not a great show.  And an Elephant never forgets.  And this one has a plan.  I will not let him off leash to have him lie down in the grass at the bottom of the hill forcing me to back track.  No sir.  Not me.  I will drag him for five miles, if that’s what it takes.) Continue reading “Running. Man and Running Dog.” →