Notes on an Evening Run

I ran this evening rather than this morning. It was pretty a night. Not a cloud in the sky. Usually I run in the morning, but lately I have had trouble waking up. This week I concentrated on getting a solid eight hours of sleep so I could wake up around 5:30 and run. I made it out on Tuesday, but yesterday and today I couldn't. I must be running in my sleep, because when I wake up I don't feel like I've had eight hours.

While running, I ran past some local hooligans in the Food Land parking lot. They heckled me a bit. I thought for a while what I would do if they accosted me. I'm a pretty big guy, and I think I could be pretty imposing if I wanted to be. My plan was to pretend I was a Marine (since I wear dog tags with my medical information, and since I was much larger than them, I don't think it would have been much of a stretch). Of course, if they took a look at my hair, or asked me to do push-ups, the jig would be up.

Here's something I've been thinking about throughout the day and finally got some quality time to dwell on it while running. You know those posters with the kittens hanging from a rope or a tree branch, that urge you to "Hang in there?" Well, there's a lot of different kittens and a lot of different pictures. This means that there has to be a whole bunch of people photographing kittens in dangerous situations. What kind of sadistic bastard does that? Help the little guy out.

I ran into two kids hanging up a Yard Sale sign in their yard. It was a nice sign, not one of those homemade jobs you tape to an empty bottle of Tide and place strategically at a stop light. No, it was pretty nice. I could only imagine what kind of shape the economy has put them in. It could be that they just enjoy yard sales. What kind of sadistic bastard enjoys yard sales?

I ran like a god for the first mile, and then I got a stitcher so bad I thought I would have to walk the rest of the way. But I got through it. A stitcher, for the running novice, is like a cramp. It feels like someone is stabbing you in your gut. I braved through it.

On the way back I was never accosted, but I was taunted again. Really, did these guys have nothing better to do? TV's pretty good on Thursday.

I managed to run 3.4 miles in 39:28, which is really disappointing considering how well I ran the first mile. I really haven't ran that well in months. Lungs felt good, body felt good--the layoff really served me well--but that time is well below what I would have run at my peak. 3.4 miles was nothing to me 14 months ago. Ah, but I was in love, and running has to take a back seat to love.

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This is post number 100 on the new blog. [Cue explosions and fireworks] The old blog was pretty good. I discovered the meaning of life on the old blog and wrote extensively about it, but I've forgotten it since. I think it was kind of boring anyway.

Hang in there.

I've Got Too Little Imagination These Days To Think Of A Clever Title For This Post

Actually, that's a lie. I've got plenty of imagination, I just don't want to spend a lot of time thinking of a title for the post. Many non-bloggers do not realize this but 64% of your time as a blogger is spent thinking of titles. I figure if I can get this number down into the thirties I will create more time to actually blog.

So, you might have noticed that the above weight ticker is still going the wrong way, even after a very good last weekend. Hmph! The good news is that my running is increasing. When my miles get up, the weight will be much easier to lose. Of course, whenever you run and excercise a lot, you need a lot more calories just to stand up. So, you eat a lot more. I just have to make sure that what I am eating isn't shit.

Glad that's out of the way. A good way to know if I am not losing any weight is if it has been a while since I've updated the aforementioned ticker. If I lose weight, you can bet I'll update it. Why wouldn't I want people to know?

That's about it for now. I've got to get out for a late run before it gets scary out.

How to Get Published

1. Become famous. Publishers like you if they've read about you in People or seen some Dateline episode about how you may or may not have killed your girlfriend. Because you're famous they have to do less work in promoting you.

2. Write a memoir. It doesn't even have to be true. But if it's fake, watch out: if the print media snobs find out you told a few fibs they will drop you in a heartbeat. So, if you are going to write a fictional memoir, make sure no one can deny your story. Once you've made a million dollars from readers who think novels have nothing worthy to teach them about life you can blab all you want. Hell, some publisher might even give you another chance as a legitimate novelist (see James Frey).

3. Try to not to be challenging. This confuses publishers, and makes it hard for them to market you. You can't sell something if you don't know what sign in the big box store to put it under.

4. Self-publish. Sure, no one will read you because a monkey can smell self-publication from a mile away--the paperback, unremarkable and maybe even hand-drawn cover with bright white pages and a very lengthy biography of the author--but at least you can say you've published something. Just don't tell anyone that you are the one who published it. Just for fun maybe you can try to self-publish a fictional memoir. If it gets popular and someone catches you, just claim the whole thing was a satire of the publishing industry. Who will know any better? You're editor? You've got no editor, you idiot!

5. Become a television. This is probably the easiest way other than becoming famous. No one reads anymore, putz, so stop trying.

If one through five fails you, try:

6. Start a blog. Of course, even if you call it something clever you probably won't get many hits unless you have a lot of friends or you mention Ron Paul.