Yes yes, I know it's been eons since I really updated this thing...you don't have to remind me. I haven't written about my trip to Niagara Falls or to Washington, D.C. (where we met with the Goddard Academy, aka the "dark side"...more about that later...maybe). You can discipline me if you want, or...
You can read about the awesome run I had. Today I had a whole bunch of extra energy. Why? Who knows. Maybe it was the fact that I started running in the morning again, maybe it was the coffee I had today--though I hope it wasn't that, or maybe it was the fact that I actually had a ton of stuff with which to keep myself busy at work today...though Saideep, my new nutritionist/"life coach" might tell me it was something else all together. But anyway, today I ran in the morning, where I encounted a dog that was really more like a small bear (think Newfoundland, only bigger and white with brown spots). It was lovable and cute, and tried to run along with me when I passed it. Then later, minutes after I got home today a massive thunderstorm hit. I went running in its aftermath, through air that was so warm and thick and wet that I could see it (really) and feel it (really really) and even could have tweezed it (huh?) if I had wanted to. The river was engorged from the rain of a few hours before and the fireflies were buzzing about freshly re-charged from the lighting (ok, so that's now how it works...but wouldn't it be rad if it was?).
On my second run I saw three raccoons crossing the road (a mother and two babies) right in front of a quickly approaching car! "No!" I said "There are racoons in the road!" (Really, I said this aloud.) So I kind of ran into the road a bit because I knew the car would see me and swerve to get around me. Yay. The raccoons didn't die. But as I passed them they kind of hissed at me. Ok, ok, so I didn't expect them to gratefully hand me a medal or anything (ok, so maybe I did), but still...
Um...also I've been perfecting my finger skills during my runs. Around North Olmsted, OH I get heckled, yelled at, and honked at than anywhere else I've ever run (even College Park, MD at night...where everyone warned me that I'd be "bothered"). It used to be that my mouth was quick with a rebuttal ("Fuck you, asshole in the car!"), though it was pointless because the car would have already sped around the corner and couldn't hear me anyway. But now I've honed my skills and improved my hand-mouth coordination so that I can give the finger while shouting an insult. I'm so proud. But seriously, I'm not being rude or vulgar, I'm just returning the sentiment.
Today I heard the best phrase ever: phantom dook. It was used on my new favorite TV show Brat Camp. It's a reality show that takes place in Central Oregon (near Hancock Field Station), where trained wilderness staff members (with names like "Little Big Bear") take troubled teens on a 60-day mission of strenuous hiking and outdoor skills to work out their emotional and disciplinary issues (a la Outward Bound). I've seriously entertained thoughts of devoting my life to such a venture (the wilderness staff part, not the troubled teen part), though I'd need to be thoroughly convinced that this kind of thing actually helps the kids. I know outdoor education was a huge part of my personal development, but I don't know if it can help everyone.
All right, there is a more eloquent, coherent, educational and information entry coming up some time in the near future.
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