We ran 5Ks this morning. Actual footage:


I haven’t been training because I hate the heat, but with a running buddy (and a flatter course), my time was three and a half minutes faster than the March run for which I did actively attempt to prepare. (Emphasis: attempt. I am slothful and running is hard.)

Bonus, if disgusting info: despite the morning’s hints of gastrointestinal distress, I did not shit myself while running long distances. I did get in the way of a lady who did on the way out, though. Ask me how I know.

Moral of today’s story: always go by the seat of your pants?

The highlight was the guys blocking traffic at the final stretch, who shouted, “THIS IS THE KARAOKE CORNER!” and started singing The Final Countdown with loud, off-key enthusiasm. (It was at this point that FluterDude discovered I am not built for endurance running, but I can go fucking fast for a short, overweight person. He ate my dust for the last quarter mile. But I really love 80s jams.)

We’re doing another in six weeks, and I’d like to shave another few minutes off my time. Working on discipline seems to be my big issue, more than the fitness. (“No, FluterDale, your heart will not explode and your lungs will not leap out of your chest if you just run to the corner. You got this. You’ve got this. Don’t slow down! You’ve got this. The corner is so close! Why are you walking?!?)

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Lowlight: Returning home after a very good, very accomplished day, to an email explaining that not only am I not getting additional courses this year (I knew this already), I’m not getting them because they’ve hired two more adjuncts. Both are alums. Neither possess a terminal degree. Because ...? Who the fuck even knows. They apologize they can’t improve my situation, but explanations aren’t forthcoming, and I’m kind of to the point where I don’t care anymore.

I’m listening to Final Countdown for motivation again while editing my C.V. for the next round of job apps. It’s like my very own 80s movie geeky montage, but there will be running tomorrow. Or the day after.

Long story short: what do you guys do to motivate yourselves when things are sticky, sweaty, or just generally lame? Eighties power ballads will do the job for tonight, but I’ve got two semesters of pent-up rage to get through, and then need to conquer my active loathing of being out of breath ... and am running low on productive outlets.

Leave your suggestion at the beep.

BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP.