sometimes I write posts like songs

Sometimes I run...sometimes it's not according to my training plan.  I miss days.  I double-up efforts.  Sometimes I even run on vacation (and post a smokin' good time according to my standard pace).  And sometimes I'm curious at how a run:walk ratio can be more effective than straight running.  I'm like Hitler.  I run my runs.  But now I'm told about this run:walk ratio-ing like it's a good thing and that marathoners do it. Say what?  Isn't it cheating?  Like, you're being lazy?  So I tried it today.  3 miles-worth, at least.  And it maintained my standard pace...so I'm not yet convinced.  But I'm willing to give it a shot.  I did feel my legs were stronger at my kick.  But that could be because I haven't ran in a few days.  The jury is definitely still out on this one.


Sometimes I cry...but it's been quite awhile.  Somehow I missed the standard omg, the world is coming to an end before the redheads die out pre-Aunt Flow meltdown.  High five me?  But then some months I feel like I'm the St. Michael's Fountain in Paris.


Sometimes I'm scared of you...when I write Tolstoy-esque emails of the going-on's here at home.  I write maybe twice a day, getting detailed into the errands I ran, how much gas cost me ($48.25 for my tank!), how I got lost on the way to the Men's Mission to drop off his Spring Cleaning bag of old clothes (not the part of town to get lost in...), and how I miss you.  And in response you mock me - "I can't wait to see your fantabulous new hat."  No, really, I bought a 1950's beach hat.  It's killer.


But all I really want is to hold you tight...because sleeping diagonal in bed is so 2007 (that whole long-distance bit we thought was brilliant.  It actually was.  I don't regret it for a minute.  Have you ever visited the panhandle of Florida?  You'll swear procreating with your cousin was illegal.  These people make you debate that idea...).  I love when my feet have a space heater.  And I love having someone around to help make the coffee.  I love 50% of responsibilities.


...Treat you right...by making you steak dinners every time you come home.  Okay, I lie.  I'll buy the steak.  You are the man and know how to not ruin a cut of beef.  So the honor is yours.  I wouldn't want to overcook your Rib Eye.  And I wouldn't want to charbroil my New York.


Be with you day and night...until it's Monday morning again and you need to appease Uncle Sam.  Because you have a Constitution to uphold.  And flight suits to make look good.


All I need is time...to pass, until you're home again, but then I look on the calendar, and as soon as you're home, you're gone again.  It's nice to have you away, so I can eat my Spooners for dinner (you know, the faux Frosted Mini-Wheats...they were totally Buy One, Get One Free at Vons this morning).  And it's nice to have you home to make home-made meals for more than just one.  Because the nutrients in Spooners compared to fresh produce is astounding.  Although the ease factor wins on the Spooners defense.