Notes on a Morning Run

It wasn't as cold as I expected this morning.

As I've mentioned in previous posts, there are at least 75 fast food joints on my morning run, and from the time I finished to the time I began typing this out 3 more have sprung up. I'm not even sure what all of their names are: Sloppy Joe's, Miracle Burger, Nina Simone's Two-Fisted Tater-Tot Emporium. They are wide and varied and I should sue them for contributing to the Karo syrup-thick blood that runs through my heart.

They put on a Fall Festival at the First Baptist Church. When I passed it this morning they still had a few rides out. A throw-away joke to my girlfriend last weekend as we walked the streets of her quiet Florida town: "Why don't they ever call churches Last Baptist Church." It's not necessarily meant to be funny but to create an air of lunacy and wackiness. I'm quite lucky she hasn't left me for a straight-man. I stand by the joke. It's layered.

I was ready to give out at about mile two. Something told me to keep going. Luckily, I know my body pretty well, and I knew that because I'd began my run at a slower pace then I could find my way to the finish without having to walk. It's good to know your body.

I didn't see any crows on my run. This is unusual because they are usually hanging out, taunting me. They want me to die of a heart attack. Not yet, dear friends. Not yet.

I thought about adding posts to my film blog while I was running. Mainly, because I only have two posts on it, but secondly because I see a lot of good films that need attention. Why, just a few weeks ago I watched Norma Rae. That Sally Field is cute little fire-plug of a girl. Half girl, half midget.

I hate Rock The Vote campaigns. If people have to pressure you into voting then you don't need to be voting. The Decemberists have promised to perform a concert at the university that signs up the most voters. You know, I like The Decemberists, but unless they find people to wake these lazy assess up and get them to the polling place then the voter drive was worthless. Studies show that young voters are silent on election day.

When the sun is behind me on my runs, I can see my muppet hair in my shadow. Muppet hair isn't something to be proud of. I must leave now to get Leon to cut it down for me. Leon is an artist.

Nader '08.