You know what, in the end none of this matters. Because today is rosh hashana. The new year. Shana Tova, indeed. And here on rosh hashana, I got a fat thick paper letter from the IRS. And you know, the IRS, they ain't like college. A thick letter from the IRS is not good news, and it certainly does not mean I'm going to havahd next year. But what it does mean is that they think I owe $600 plus interest for an underpayment in 2010. And you know what, they are probably right. Which is funny, since I have already been audited for 2010 and the auditor not only saw no problems with 2010, but he actually approved a BAR (big ass refund) to cover for the flood damage to the house. I guess the IRS can taketh, then giveth, then taketh away. But it is okay in the end because right now I am drinking an Octoberfest-style beer by Magic Hat, which is not the best rendition of the style, but is okay. Why drink an Oc/ktoberfest beer in September? Who knows, but that's when the folks in Munich do it, and if Bavarians do it, it most be okay. Who am I to argue. Then again, I'm getting a bit fed up that my middle kiddo is still sick with a fever and stuck in bed. Not a bad fever, mind you. Just enough to keep her feeling puny and stuck in bed playing with her i-Thing. I'm not sure if she really feels bad or would just rather play on her i-Thing than go to synagogue to daven rosh hashana. Because on rosh hashana it is written and on yom kippor it is sealed. And only good deeds and repentance can lessen the severity of the decree. At least that is what I believe the rabbi and the book say every year. And lord knows, I have plenty to repent for this year. Well, some think so. Others feel differently. But this is the world wide web of the trenternet that Ryan invented and so I don't really want to go into that. I'd rather just finish my beer, grab a long run in the morning so I don't cramp or bonk or run 26-30 miles in training for my next long run marathon.

So enjoy that orange-colored roundpuffymuffin. Just not with lox spread.

I gotta say, it is just great having Nobby around. Nobuya 'Nobby' Hashizume. Just rolls off the tongue and the keyboard. I mean so many well meaning folks show up and ask questions that boggle our minds. They want to know whether they really should be running. How far to run. How fast to run. Whether to run more or to cross train. Whether rest days mean rest from running. Whether it is better to have beer or wine while tapering. How long the best amount of time to taper is. They ask all these questions, and clearly none of us have the patience for them. You have Mikey, who palpably rolls his eyes. You have Senor Lopez who looks hard hard hard for puns, and then makes them up if he cannot find them. You have Jeff and Span Span who look for any opportunity to go all ad hominem on each other's' asses. With Toyns on backup ready to press the button. And Dopple Bock does that sweet thing where he writes above the quoted text while the rest of us write below it. This is what makes the GSP great. But Nobby, he always gives loads of words to answer the question. That man, he has time to write. Bless him. And all the info is good and fun and inspiring. You may not know this about me Nads, but I once had the opportunity to meet Nobby. I even shared a meal with him. There were some other esteemed RA people there, some more esteemed than others, but I got to sit next to Nobby. You will appreciate this: at the restaurant, they had tiny, plastic, gem-colored monkeys. The monkeys were toys, of course, not real animals. But I was excited all the same. I collected everybody's, and I even still have them. I was at this restaurant, you see, when I was visiting with these esteemed RAers. One pair of them was getting married right there, that very weekend, but not at a waterpark, mind you. And it was a lovely wedding. Another couple there at the table, well, they went on and got married another time. I don't want you to think that this story is leading to me marrying Nobby because I am already married and that would have led to even more to repent for, NTTIAWWT. I was staying at another RAers house that weekend and he once ran to the next town, then back home and even got lost in his own neighborhood. That night there at the restaurant, as Nobby is my witness, he picked up fire. It was fairly awesome, better than any book version would have been. But I got to take home a bunch of plastic monkeys, so not all is lost.

I guess the real question is this: why am I still up? Awake. As they say in France, eveille. But with accents over two of the es. In the mornings, I yell at the kids to get up so that they can get ready for school. I say to them, "get up". And they say that they are up. But really, they are still in bed, awake. So they are awake, for sure, but they are not up. When they try to counter my semantic arguments, though, I just sing to them. There are lots of great camp songs for good mornings, but he one that I have the most fun with is the Little Birdie song. Goes like this, "ay up in the sky, the little bird flies, while down in the nest, the little bird rests. With a wing on the left and a wing on the right, the little bird slumbers all through the night. Shhhhh....you'll wake the damned bird. The bright sun comes up, and the dew falls away. 'Good morning, good morning', the little bird say." Of course, with the kiddos I don't say, "damned". Usually I just leave it out, but sometimes I say, "danged".  What I find odd is that I recently discovered that the version of this song, which I learned at the boys' camp where I volunteer every summer, well it is darkly mirrored at the girls camp where my kiddos go. Except in their version, the bird flies in the sky and then dies a horrible death in the lake. But I don't know the words, and I'm not sure I want to. I guess that will inspire you BOTH to wake up AND to get up. Then again, there camp is much further away from anything close to what you might call civilization, and is far more rustic. So perhaps the cruelty matches that sense of being out in the woods. I kid you not, at some Summer camps, the kids and parents get to email each other. What is that about. At least at this camp, you have to use old fashioned letters. On paper. With stamps. And the kids don't get to have any electronics or i-Things or the like. That is as it should be. But yeah, I need to put away my electronics and go to bed. Stop being up. Awake. Because the sooner I go to bed, the more likely I'll be able to get up early and go for a run in the park. Go back to Monkeyville. Even though I was explicitly told not to go back to Monkeyville. Or maybe that was Rockville. Whatever, I went back there too last week. But I got in a good run in the park there too.

They ask all these questions, and clearly none of us have the patience for them. You have Mikey, who palpably rolls his eyes. You have Senor Lopez who looks hard hard hard for puns, and then makes them up if he cannot find them. You have Jeff and Span Span who look for any opportunity to go all ad hominem on each other's' asses. With Toyns on backup ready to press the button. And Dopple Bock does that sweet thing where he writes above the quoted text while the rest of us write below it. This is what makes the GSP great. But Nobby, he always gives loads of words to answer the question.

This is why I come to RA.  I love to see everyone's reaction to the questions that don't really mean much except to those that ask.  I feel like everyone's answer contains some little piece of what I'm thinking:  the snark and annoyance, the humor, the fight, and actual desire to help or just to say, "Just run, dumbass."  (Although, that could fall under "snark and annoyance".)  Nobby, well, he goes all scientific...but not just half scientific.  He's all in.  I have yet to read a full post of his.  I'm sure he provides great info, but my poor little head can only spit out, "tl;dr".

And the obvious answer is beer.

That man, he has time to write. Bless him.

Indeed.

FCKNG SRSLY.

What's irritating is that apparently I had time to read the whole thing.

What's stupidly amazing to me is that I can't read Nobby because his stuff is too long, but I read every word of what Ternt wrote.