I Ran. The Tick Rode. I Hurt

Last night I decided that a 0400 wake up time was in order so I could go running. Once I stepped off at 0600, I further decided that 4 loops of 8 miles each was smart. I am not a smot man.

Everything was going fine and even my new iPod (newly dubbed "Giggy") was along for the ride, the weather was cool but getting less so every minute. The humidity was climbing, but I was drinking water and enjoying tunes.

It was at the start of the third loop that I was stopped by a guard in the middle of the road who told me I had to go back, the road was closed. Whew, I thought he was going to give me shit about wearing headphones.

But this created a problem because it was a 1/2 mile into the 3rd loop and I had to return to run it backwards. This, of course, pissed me off.

It was on halfway around the loop when a car stopped and two women who had seen me twice before (they were going the opposite way) and asked me just how far I was planning on going. I told them and then asked if the other side was open and they said it was.

I only made it through that third loop and decided that I liked living a bit too much to attempt the 4th. In fact, it kinda turned into a survival thing to even get back just under 2 hours (normal time: 1 hour 20 minutes). The three loops plus the little 1 mile bonus made it 25 miles.

When I lumbered home, I discovered a tick on my leg. I had to tweezer the little bastard off of me and he had the audacity not to let himself be crushed. So I threw him in the toilet, pissed on him, let him soak in it for the duration of my shower, and then took just a bit too much satisfaction in flushing him down to oblivion.

I then ate and tried to sleep but the combination of the neighbor's stereo and the intense pain in my legs decided I should get up and write a blog.

I do this why, again?