And I'm just getting a bit mental now because 100 mile training is kind of not happening like it should right now. I've done nothing longer than a 50k right now and I have to be ready for this thing by June.

Crap.

I just plug my Garmin into the computer and-  there are the runs.

I'd love to do this, but I hate using my Garmin all the time. And I run a lot of treadmill miles, so my Garmin never seems to work on it. 

No I'm fairly obsessive compulsive when it comes to logging.  Sometimes I forget to log my run for like 3 hours or God forbid a whole day and then when I remember it freaks me out a little that I let that much time lapse between running and putting it in the magical interwebs.  Longest I can remember going without logging a run is 24 hours, when I went to log that morning's run and realized I had yet to log the previous day's run.  My heart skipped a beat.

I wish I were kidding.

I'm not surprised, given how obsessive you are about updating your blog.

 +1

 

I cant count the number of times my kids were late to school because I had to log my run.  And then I start reading shit and posting and the next thing you know it is 8:15

... so did the note to the principal read  "Please excuse my kids from being late on account of I had to take care of my log..."?

... so did the note to the principal read  "Please excuse my kids from being late on account of I had to take care of my log..."?

It's better to be mysterious about it and say, "Dear Mr. Pimpleton, I was stuck dealing with a FAT LOG and brought the kids in as soon as I could get out the door."

I don't even remember what it was like to come in to work and not log a run, except back when I effed up my foot and could not run for a couple of stretches.  That was a big sucks.  Sometimes, I'll note the miles and total time and try not to calculate the pace, so, you know, I'll have a little surprise waiting for me, when I look at the results from Eric's magic calculator. 

mta: grammar. 

I am a dynamic figure, often seen scaling walls and crushing ice. I have been known to remodel train stations on my lunch breaks, making them more efficient in the area of heat retention. I translate ethnic slurs for Cuban refugees, I write award-winning operas, I manage time efficiently. Occasionally, I tread water for three days in a row.

I woo women with my sensuous and godlike trombone playing, I can pilot bicycles up severe inclines with unflagging speed, and I cook Thirty-Minute Brownies in twenty minutes. I am an expert in stucco, a veteran in love, and an outlaw in Peru.

Using only a hoe and a large glass of water, I once single-handedly defended a small village in the Amazon Basin from a horde of ferocious army ants. I play bluegrass cello, I was scouted by the Mets, I am the subject of numerous documentaries. When I'm bored, I build large suspension bridges in my yard. I enjoy urban hang gliding. On Wednesdays, after school, I repair electrical appliances free of charge.

I am an abstract artist, a concrete analyst, and a ruthless bookie. Critics worldwide swoon over my original line of corduroy evening wear. I don't perspire. I am a private citizen, yet I receive fan mail. I have been caller number nine and have won the weekend passes. Last summer I toured New Jersey with a traveling centrifugal-force demonstration. I bat 400. My deft floral arrangements have earned me fame in international botany circles. Children trust me.

I can hurl tennis rackets at small moving objects with deadly accuracy. I once read Paradise Lost, Moby Dick, and David Copperfield in one day and still had time to refurbish an entire dining room that evening. I know the exact location of every food item in the supermarket. I have performed several covert operations for the CIA. I sleep once a week; when I do sleep, I sleep in a chair. While on vacation in Canada, I successfully negotiated with a group of terrorists who had seized a small bakery. The laws of physics do not apply to me.

I balance, I weave, I dodge, I frolic, and my bills are all paid. On weekends, to let off steam, I participate in full-contact origami. Years ago I discovered the meaning of life but forgot to write it down. I have made extraordinary four course meals using only a mouli and a toaster oven. I breed prizewinning clams. I have won bullfights in San Juan, cliff-diving competitions in Sri Lanka, and spelling bees at the Kremlin. I have played Hamlet, I have performed open-heart surgery, and I have spoken with Elvis.

But I have not logged my run yet.