Wednesday, November 7, 2012

Yellow Shame And The Chillo Armadillo

It's quite cold.

Last night I went running. I was supposed to go in the morning to the gym and begin transition from running around my neighborhood to treadmill plodding at 5am. But a combination of unpleasant factors all diverged together to create a situation that made that impossible. First and foremost I just didn't feel like it. I would have happily got up, dressed and run out the door. But scraping ice off the car, driving to the gym and then running sounds irritating. The ice part is alright I suppose. After all I am more than happy to run in the cold. But having to work before actually running isn't my idea of fun at all. And running with people has never been my thing. Please - enjoy your road races and cross country clubs. I'm far more at home on my own terms in my own element. Which is alone with headphones on.

Secondly I had spent the prior day accomplishing many victories in Operation Chunk Up. I had rather recently been terrified to step on a scale and see that I'd ticked under 130 pounds. That's barely above 9 stone. Which is flat out wrong. So I have spent the past two-to-three weeks shoveling tortilla chips and chocolate into my gob. Add I dropped the odd day of running here and there. In that short time I've pleasantly popped on 10 pounds and yesterday ticked onto 139. Unfortunately the side effects of eating all those corn chips, cheese, cups of coffee and quarter tub of mixed nuts are that it's like ingesting a brick enema. So getting up and leaving isn't possible as it feels you're dragging a bran-anchor around. My wife enjoys (she really does seem to reminisce about it a bit too cheerily) telling me often about her travails with a cross-country team in her youth where they'd all go on their pre-poo run in the early mist ensuring that they circle the toilets in concentric circles into delivery time arrived.

More pressing than that though was - as I mentioned yesterday - both my kids wetting two different beds at the same time. I was shuffling in the hallway trying to pick up my running gear when my son walked onto the landing to let me know he'd let The Yellow Shame out. So I stripped his bed and got to work getting all that stuff cleaned up while his mother graciously got up at 4.45am aware that she had agreed to let me bugger off to the gym. But frankly the annoyance of driving there first, the fiber-fiend inside me and the weird odor of urine that now permeated my nostrils had put me off a little. So I told my wife not to worry about me running and just figured I'd go later on.

My son - absolutely delighted that his mother was now awake - told me he wanted to go back to sleep with her. He was clearly lying. He wanted to lie down with her so that he could thrash around in bed with her laughing before telling her to get up and make him breakfast. So a handful of minutes later he was back downstairs while I had was thinking about getting my running gear on. My son then realized his mother hadn't followed him but was with her daughter. I then heard the cry that my daughter had leaked out the Jaundice Jailbird as well. So I went upstairs and cleaned that foulness up as well while the kids and their mother climbed in the only available empty bed to stay warm while the heating kicked in. By which point I'd absolutely given up on running. Too many obtrusive factors. The one most bothering me was The Yellow Scent Of Sin. In spite of me washing my hands repeatedly with various soaps I could still smell it. It was as if urine had managed to get in everything I was involved with.

 But I did get a run in last night. I left when it was already dark and headed out to a local dog path. Couldn't see anything and it was 28 degrees when I left. Great run though. And although the wife is projecting a pretty late night in work tonight I might do it again. Mind you this morning it was 10 degrees when I got up. That's -12 Celsius. Which had me putting on my formless, brown corduroy coat and the kids plopping on hats and gloves even in the house before the heating really permeated every nook and cranny. I told them that the water in the bird bath had frozen and explained ice to my son. Then told him his eyes are liquid too so they might freeze. Hence the kids doing what they're doing in the below photos. I have no excuse for my bizarre chimp-like gurning.

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