From Fear Through the Eyes of Madness

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It was a wonderful morning for a run. The sun wasn't shining. The cotton wood seeds were blowing. I could feel snot forming in my nose and wheezes in my chest. The grass was wet with dew that would keep my feet cold the majority of the day. A blister had formed on my big toe of my right foot and my muscles were screaming with rage at being woken at such an early hour. The mosquitoes were buzzing, swarming, biting and mocking me for the twin bites that already plagued my ass from the weekend prior. My shirt was swishing and scratching against my sunburn and my iPod was singing the sweet words of Coheed & Cambria, "Cry on bitch! Why aren't you laughing now?!" as I neared the end of the run.


Such is the life of a marathon runner. Except I'm not yet a marathon runner. I suppose the scene will much resemble The Producers. I will not get my title of a marathon runner until I actually run the marathon much like Matthew Broderick did not receive his producer's hat until the end of the film.

Before I close, two good points about today's run:
1. I ran the first full mile without stopping. I've never done that before. (Stop laughing. This is my page).
2. I had Hillary for a running partner. At least I had her to distract some of the bugs. :)