Imagine, you live with someone with entirely too much free time on their hands-"free" defined as: don't cook, don't clean, don't parent. You walk into the place you sleep, and things are arbitrarily moved-i.e. a print of a painting from the renaissance (given to you by your mother no less) is moved to the den-amongst running gear-because a flea market yielded crap for the shithole/livingroom. No, you can't write stuff this good. Surreal.
Got my St.Francis on, good thing. Should'a taken the day off-day after a half-but it WAS in fact merely a half, not a full. REALLY humid this am, but a terrific excuse to take it slooooow.
STILL riffin' offa seein' all the greenies. What a true gathering. With Striders running and volunteering, College Pointers supporting the run, Hellgaters here and there, and the spectators-it weas really what running was all about.
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