I was out with the dog yesterday - and believe it or not he was not that enthralled with getting up early to go out for a run. Go figure. Monday runs are possibly the worst designed thing on the planet. You might ask me why? Well let me tell you a few reasons.
One. Late night concert till 10:30PM. The concert was not bad - Mary Chapin Carpenter. One of my wife's favorite musicians. It might have been the fact that there were Hippies everywhere. And some of them had a drinking problem. Off balance, inebriated individuals trying to dance and sing is somewhat entertaining but in the end all you lose is equilibrium.
Two. 11PM fruit salad. I am not complaining about fruit, or salad. Just the timing of it. I knew the run was creeping towards me at dawn. I knew it was coming. It was marching steadily each second ticking away till the grand vista of tomorrow stormed into existence.
Three. Bubble bread. Now for all of you novices out there - you take Rhodes Rolls, roll them in melted butter, then in a cinnamon sugar mixture and then lump 30 or so of them into a Bundt cake pan and let it rise in the fridge. Bad news is that when you get up in the morning it will not have risen as it should and you have to leave at 545AM to get in five miles before you get to go to work.
It would seem to me, Dear Robin, that my run was screwed up and backwards before it started. I felt like Vin Diesel outrunning the burning planet in the Chronicles of Riddick. Quick quick run run before you get vaporized by the dawn. My fat did not know what hit it - Pushing it all the way and hoping you get home to bake the product before all chaos reigns, cats and dogs live together, Armageddon in the streets.
The fat waits for none of those.
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