I told people at work today that the race "was tons of fun," but that's the type of thing you say after the fact, when memories of the actual running are joined by memories of stepping onto the Piedmont Park meadow and getting my t-shirt and a tepid bottle of water, and meeting my sister and talking about how great it was going to be to go home for ( Read more... )

The race is tomorrow and I'm prematurely sore. Yesterday I dared to take part in a fairly conventional four-day-holiday-summer-weekend activity, and, look, I end up not being able to comfortably move my arms. I went to the pool to hang out with Adam and Jason and Susan and a couple of Jason's college friends who were in town from Indiana. We ( Read more... )

Last night brought us the most satisfying thunderstorm we've had in some time. I fell asleep to it, and when I woke up the room was still dark and cool and I was able to lie there for a while, piecing together a couple dreams and being pleased with myself for sleeping through Adam's getting up and going to work at 4:30 AM ( Read more... )

I was driving home from work one day last week when I saw my hero: a lean, bald-spotted man in gray cotton t-shirt and shorts, running down the side of the street while carrying an orange garbage bag in his right hand. Every time he came across any litter, he leaned over to pick it up. He had the luxury of possessing really long limbs, so bending ( Read more... )

When it's Friday evening and you're walking around the apartment shooting insults at bath towels, torchere lamps, anoraks, and empty wine bottles, pretending that they are the person you're supposed to meet for lunch tomorrow, you should be earnest and intuitive enough with yourself to know that it's a fine time to hit the workout room and bike ( Read more... )

One of the regulars came into the workout room tonight while I was plugging away on the elliptical machine and trying to get interested in watching Fairly Oddparents on the TV that's set too high on the wall for me to be able to change the channel. "Gettin' ready for the beach?" he said ( Read more... )

Last year I was reading Douglas Coupland's Microserfs during the first week of January. This year, I'm reading Douglas Coupland's All Families Are Psychotic (which was sent to me packed with Adam's receipts and ticket stubs from New York and bearing a faint smell of coffee I never want to go away). Continuity is my bitch ( Read more... )