Category Archives: humor

Nuthin’ Friday

I am in a bad mood. There, I’ve said it.

I bill this as “my totally fun blog,” and I try to be upbeat and positive and even rah-rah, giving shout-outs to local businesses, boosting local charities and spotlighting community events. I even try to put a positive spin on posts about difficult runs. And some days… I just don’t jolly well feel like it.

Today is Lame Post Friday, which usually comes to my rescue at times like this. A few random observations, a couple of half-baked philosophies, and I start feeling pretty cheerful. The act of writing actually boosts my mood. Today, I got nuthin’.

I tell myself there’s no reason to feel bad that I’m in a bad mood. Everybody gets in a bad mood once in a while, some people more than others. Still, there’s no reason to inflict my bad mood on others, least of all my innocent blog readers. Readers of my blog are, I believe, here to be amused, maybe informed, dare I say, entertained. Or else they clicked on a link by accident are are saying, “What the H*%#@ is this?” (in which case, I believe most computers are equipped with a handy “X” somewhere that will get rid of any offending web page)

There is no denying that I am down. My choices are: try to get myself into a better mood, try to find something funny to say about my bad mood, stop writing now and try to write my post later. I pick three.

…

So now it’s later. I typed in what I wrote earlier, because I still got nuthin’ (I really want to type “nothing” but I believe the correct expression is “I got nuthin'”). I did achieve a better mood at work, by dint of making silly jokes with my co-workers and laughing. Nothing worth repeating, but we amused ourselves. Then I got in a not so good mood after work with another not so fun run that I may blog about tomorrow. Now I’m showered and had a cup of coffee while I typed in what I wrote earlier.

Coffee! Why didn’t I think of that before? I’m feeling much better. Still not very bright, though, so, lame as this is, this is today’s post. Happy Friday, everybody.

Keep Running, Cindy!

I had it in my head that Wednesday’s run was going to be a good run and I was going to blog about it. I thought how my last couple of running posts had been about difficult runs and I felt a little uncomfortable with that. Of course, it’s a good thing to persevere through a difficult run and to write about it; the one thing helps the other, without a doubt. But I don’t want to give the impression that all my runs are difficult runs. If all I’m doing is persevering, I think it’s time to find a new hobby slash workout (I really felt the need to write the word “slash” and not use a “/”).

It helped that the weather cooperated. Warmer, not humid, nice. Shorts and short sleeves were definitely the way to go. I felt pretty OK as soon as I started out.

I wanted to run the hill by Valley Health Services. That necessitated crossing German Street, not always easy with four o’clock traffic. I managed it at the three-way stop at Caroline Street, waving “thank you” to the cars that didn’t run me over. The hill is what I would call respectable. Not as challenging as the hill to Herkimer County Community College, but not negligible. Respectable.

I shuffled up it, thinking how my previous method (and I’m not the only one to use it) was to sprint up hills. My reasoning was, get up it as quickly as possible, so the difficulty only lasted a short time. It was not a good method. Slow and steady wins the race (is that a cliche? Should I have added “as they say” or some other self-deprecating, post-ironic phrase?).

On my way down, on the other side of the building, I saw a lady walking away carrying a large umbrella.

“Didn’t need the umbrella after all,” I called.

“No, it’s beautiful,” she said.

“Oh, it sure is!”

There were still clouds, but as I rounded the corner some sunlight broke through and lit up some forsythia bushes. I love forsythia. It’s beautiful and fun to say. Now the sun was behind me with dark clouds in front of me. I admired the effect. I checked out my shadow on the sidewalk. Still lumpy. Keep running, Cindy.

My run seemed to be taking a long time. I felt that I was running very slowly. That’s all right; you mostly have to run slow on the Boilermaker. With 14,000 runners, I don’t see things thinning out much as we go. I started thinking about the Boilermaker and how I’d wave to people cheering the runners on. I can say silly things like, “My fans, how they adore me.” I mentally calculated how many weeks till the Boilermaker and how long I would be running if I added 10% each week, as recommended by those guys at the Sneaker Store. As long as I’m up to an hour I’ll feel comfortable. If you can run one hour, you can run two. You just don’t stop.

I did not need to put on a sweatshirt for my cool down walk with Tabby. I felt happy about my run and even happier when I thought about running this weekend NOT after a 10 hour workday. So you see, not all my runs are difficult or un-fun. And I bet they’ll get even better. See you at the Boilermaker!

Cool Runnings

Note to self: no more days off running. At least, no more four days in a row off running.

It was that damn pedicure. If I had not been so anxious to have pretty toes for Saturday’s wine tasting tour, I could have run on Wednesday. And it was that damn wine tasting tour. If I had stayed home, I could have run Saturday and felt better Sunday and Monday. But it’s useless to repine. We can’t go back and change things, and if we could go back there’s no guarantee we would make the right changes.

All this by way of saying, I did not enjoy Tuesday’s run as much as I had hoped. I felt better Tuesday than I had on Monday, and I thought the temperature was a little warmer. Not as warm as it could be. I recall at my last difficult run wondering if the difficulty stemmed from the warm humidity or from running after a 10 hour work day. Tuesday I had the chance to find out. Nice 40 degree weather. Good temperature to run in, right?

When I walked out of work in Ilion, it seemed colder than expected. I thought, maybe leggings and a long-sleeved t-shirt. But it was sunny; my truck cab was warm. And Herkimer is often warmer than Ilion. By the time I got home, I thought I could rock the shorts and short sleeves. I do hate getting overheated, which I find can happen when it’s over 40 degrees. I had a slight delay while Steven helped me find a headband. My ears can still get cold while my body overheats. Finally Steven located one.

Apparently the temperature had dropped and/or the wind picked up during my slight delay. Oh dear. But I was not about to go back and change, so I trusted to sunny spots and my own efforts to overcome the cold.

I right away started looking for things to put in a blog post. Different things, so my blog does not become monotonous. I did not notice anything right away, but I remembered two things. The Boilermaker organizers this year are allowing people to give their registration to somebody else if they decide not to run. One of my nieces would like to run the Boilermaker but did not register. Hmmm…. I could give her my registration and go back to leading a sedentary lifestyle. I considered that for maybe half a block. My body sure liked the sound of “sedentary lifestyle.” But I have had the foresight to mention to a good many people that I intend to run the Boilermaker. No easy way out for me! I kept running.

I had turned right onto German Street and managed to cross both Main and Washington Streets despite heavy traffic (I came as close as I can get to a sprint at this point). I made it all the way down to the old factory-looking building that is now owned (I think) by H.A.R.C and houses the Herkimer County Chamber of Commerce (I meant to go to their open house when they first opened and blog about it). I always liked that building, because it makes me think of an army building. When it was vacant I used to run through the parking lot and behind it, till I noticed the No Trespassing sign. I decided to try it again, to see if the sign was still there.

As I entered the parking lot, I saw a sign that said rental space was available, for office or manufacturing purposes. I wondered what kind of business I could start. I noticed a couple of disused loading docks and one that was completely cinder-blocked up. I didn’t see a No Trespassing sign, so I continued around the building and came out on a residential street.

I ran down it, noting as I like to screened-in porches I admire. I saw buds on some trees, a welcome sight. I never reached the “I can rock this” stage, but I got to a neutral point where my body seemed reasonably content to keep going. I did not begin to feel warm. As I ran down Prospect Street, I met a two pedestrians wearing winter coats.

“Makes me feel even colder!” the lady said, looking at me.

“I thought it was warmer when I started out,” I said. “I was wrong!”

I saw a girl running with a pit-bull-looking dog trotting beside her. She sensibly had on long pants, long sleeves and even boots. Running in boots? When she got to the park she slowed to a walk as the dog started sniffing trees, so perhaps they had merely been hustling to a business meeting.

As I neared home I got past the neutral stage and back to the “I want to stop NOW” stage. I did not stop, however, till I had run my intended time. I threw on a sweatshirt before Tabby and I walked my cool down, but it didn’t help much. The wind had picked up so much, it was making a whistling noise over the top of my water bottle. When we got back to the house, I thanked Steven again for finding the headband, because my ears were the only parts of me that weren’t cold.

I had actually written more observations and happenings from the run, but I see that I am over 800 words. I like to keep my posts short, or at least short-ish. That may be a challenge as my runs get longer, but I’ll see what I can do.

Beginning My Wine Weekend

I’ve been promising a post about wine tasting for some days now. At last I have my wine tasting notes with me. How to begin?

I thought a Wine Tasting at Ilion Wine and Spirits on Friday night would be a fitting prelude to my Saturday tour in the Finger Lakes. It was.

I started with a a Darcy Kurt Gruner Veltliner, 2010, California. Scott thought it was an Austrian grape, although it is a California wine. This is where I become painfully aware that I am not a real wine blogger. My only notes are “oh yeah, very nice.” Nothing about fruity notes or a dry finish (I don’t remember if this one had either of those, by the way). I never even mention the bouquet. The only thing I can note is that I think the u in Gruner is supposed to have the two little dots over it (it has the “eeuu” pronunciation). (As side note: my fifth grade cello teacher, Mr. Tufts, taught me how to pronounce the u with the two dots. You make your mouth like you’re saying “eee” then your lips like you’re saying “ooo.” It’s fun, but it always takes me too long).

So I have several more wines listed with notes like “good” and “OK, but I liked the Veltliner better.” Oh, the Gerard Bertrand Viognier 2010 (France) I noted as “very dry, very plain, very light.” I wonder if real wine connoisseurs describe wines as “plain.” Not as descriptive or as complimentary as “yummy.”

I did try a wine I hadn’t intended to, Voga Moscato, Italy, and noted it as “yummy” and “a good wine to bring somewhere.” Another lady tasting said it was her favorite and urged me to try some. In fact, the cylindrical bottle looked familiar. I believe that is a wine I bought at another tasting and brought to my sister’s house one weekend some years ago. If so, my second note was quite appropriate.

My most notable take away was a recipe for some warm dip they served. You take equal parts shredded cheddar, chopped onion and mayonnaise and put in a 350 degree oven for about an hour. I believe they said the recipe is originally from the Horned Dorset Inn. I can’t wait to make some. Maybe to bring to somebody’s house along with a bottle of Voga Moscato.

I purchased a bottle of One Hope Cabernet Sauvignon 2009, California, by Rob Mondavi, Jr. I teased Scott for being on familiar terms and calling the winemaker “Rob” instead of “Robert,” but it says “Rob” on the bottle. In addition to its being a very tasty cab, 50% of profits are donated to autism research.

I left with thanks for starting my wine tasting weekend off right. In fact, I’m not sure but what that was the best of my wine tasting last weekend. It certainly involved the least amount of driving. Ilion Wine and Spirits is located at 10 E. Main St, Ilion, NY, phone number 315-894-8142.

Muddled Monday

I was either going to write about Saturday’s wine tasting or resort to Middle-aged Musings. Well, I mislaid my tasting notes, so musings it is.

I’m actually bemused this morning, because my coffee has not kicked in. What’s that all about? I can’t still be tired from Saturday, can I? Am I getting too old to have fun? Say it ain’t so!

I can’t write a whole blog post about how tired I feel. Actually, I could because right now that is uppermost in my mind, but how boring would it be? The sad thing is, I think I have mentioned how tired I am many times in this blog. I know I’ve talked about my desire for an old lady seat so I can shower sitting down. Yesterday I even considered staying dirty.

Actually, there is something else I could blog about (such a silly verb): Friday night. Friday night was to be spent with my husband. I felt so bad that he had to work and could not go on the wine tasting tour. Really, the older I get (ooh, it’s another middle-aged musing), the more I just want to be with my husband. Fun without Steven is just not as much fun. I’ve always felt that way to a point; heck, why would I have married him if I didn’t like to be with him? I may be an independent, take charge kind of woman (and say so in my blog), I may be my own person (others have described me that way), but I like to be with my husband. So there.

Our first stop Friday night was the Ilion Farmer’s Market at Clapsaddle Farm, Otsego Street, Ilion, NY. I just talked about it last week. This week we took our schnoodle Tabby. Tabby loves the Farmer’s Market. The old barn has so many smells for her, and there are always nice people who like to pet a cute dog (which she is). We got into a big conversation with one lady about dogs, cats and skunks.

After the Farmer’s Market we headed back down Otsego Street to Ilion Wine and Spirits, 10 E. Main St. They were having a wine tasting (kind of a warm up for my Saturday). We left Tabby in the car, because she’s not 21. I have some notes on that tasting too, so I guess I’ll write more about it later.

We took Tabby home before we went to dinner at the Herkimer Elks Lodge on Mary Street. The sign out front used to advertise Fish Fry, but now it says Dinner, reflecting their expanded menu. The cooking is by Dominick Scalise of Dominick’s Deli in Herkimer, and everything we’ve had so far is quite delicious. Friday I had seafood stuffed haddock and Steven had baked haddock. I look forward to eating my leftovers.

I’m thinking my musings were more entertaining than my activities, or do I flatter myself? No matter. I’ve written both, I’ll type in both (like last week, I have little time and am too flustered for extensive re-writes). People can like it or not (although I hope they do).

Before the Wine

Saturday was an adventure filled day for me, but not in the Mohawk Valley. It was driving distance from the Mohawk Valley, though, so I’m sure it’s perfectly acceptable for a blog topic. I went wine tasting in the Finger Lakes.

I must point out, however, that it is not easy driving distance. I had to get up prior to five in the morning to get things done and get to Marcy to my sister’s house. From there we went to Rome and from there to Liverpool. Then and only then did we start the hour drive to the lakes. And then we drove to some wineries. Um, I didn’t drive. We had a designated driver. Then it was back to Liverpool, then back to Rome, where my husband picked me up and we drove back to Herkimer. And that last drive, let me tell you seemed to take FOREVER! At my age, I think overnight trips are the way to go. But that’s neither here nor there (oh, actually, I guess it’s there).

I spent all day telling people at the wineries I was going to put them in my blog. They responded politely. But first I thought I’d tell about one little thing that happened in Rome before the trip, just because I told my mom and sister it was going in the blog.

My dad’s hobby is restoring classic cars. He is very good at it, and has some beautiful vehicles. When Cheryl and I pulled into Mom and Dad’s driveway, we saw a yellow 1958 Chevrolet pick up truck I hadn’t seen before. Full disclosure: I did not recognize it as being 1958, but there was a license plate cover that said “’58 Truck” on it.

Dad asked our help to push it into the garage.

“I can push a truck,” I said. “I work in a factory! I used to be in the army!” Nobody was impressed, but this is family. They’re never impressed.

Dad pushed from the driver’s side door so he could steer. Mom, Cheryl and I pushed from the rear. Almost as soon as the truck started moving, Mom and Cheryl started hollering that I wasn’t really pushing; they were doing all the work. I saved my breath to keep pushing. I’ll let the reader decide who to believe.

Luckily the driveway is not very long. And I think it was a good thing we did not get the truck going very fast, because I don’t think the brakes work. If I knew how to post a photo, I could have taken a picture and posted it, maybe even doing a whole post later with before and after. Perhaps in the future.

In the meantime, that was a fun little interlude before a long time sitting in the car. And since Sunday finds me too tired to write a long post about the wine tasting, I thought this would do. Stay tuned for more about wine, unless I get caught up in Middle-aged Musings Monday (which, of course, is more whine) (you knew I was going to make that pun, didn’t you?).

Silly Saturday

OK, this is going to be a short, foolish post.

I hesitated what to call it, because I have at least one friend who calls me out when she perceives I am putting myself down. So I couldn’t call it stupid. I might have called it lame, but will I include any random observations and half-baked philosophies? Silly might have worked, but what if I didn’t get silly enough? So you see how I dither (dither is a really good word; it exactly describes what I do).

It is five in the morning and I am sitting at my computer. I had meant to come home last night, write the post, save it as a draft and only have to hit a few buttons this morning. I was too tired. In fact, my original plan included rewriting the lame post I had written at work that day for Friday. Why do I even bother making plans?

On the brighter side, in about an hour I will be headed to my sister’s house. From there we will pick up mother and sister-in-law and head to another sister’s house, where we will be joined by the other sister and a cousin, and we are headed to the Finger Lakes for WINE TASTING!!! This, of course, is why I have been flustered all week (and not a little obsessed: Friday watching the news on YNN, I thought the guy called the channel “Wine-N”).

On the even brighter side, my coffee seems to be kicking in. I’ve heard that the caffeine in coffee really takes about 20 minutes to kick in. If you are falling asleep on a road trip, they say (oh, those smart, smart people, “they”), you should get yourself a cup of coffee, then take a 20 minute power nap till the caffeine kicks in. That would never work for me. Whether it’s the hot beverage or placebo effect, I get fast results. Coffee is a gift from God.

OK, that’s over 300 words. A not unrespectable post (my computer is telling me unrespectable is not a word; go figure). As I look back over it, a not unsilly post (also not a real word). Bottom line, I like it. I’m hitting publish. Happy Saturday.

Flustered Friday

Oh Friday, sweet Friday. What a cliche to be so happy it’s Friday.

I’ve felt flustered all week, and I believe it has shown in my blog posts, most notably in a digression on time management and missing my turn onto Washington Street. What is flustering me about that today is that such silliness would have been perfect for Lame Post Friday. But I wrote them during the week and left them in willy nilly as written (I do like the term willy nilly. For one thing, it rhymes with silly). That’s what I get for not editing. I should say, for not editing sufficiently. One can’t help but do some editing between between page and screen (um, computer screen. I don’t write for the cinema screen. Or even the screened in porch).

That leads me to ponder writing in general and writing for blogs in particular. There is a prominent school of thought in writing that says our first inspiration is usually the best. Keep that inner critic quiet; write exactly what you think at the time. The ultimate expression in this school of thought is free writing. You just write. Don’t stop the pen for any reason.

I have never been able to do free writing, not for one day ever in my life. Sometimes I start writing and my pen does not stop moving for some length of time. But if I say to myself, “Don’t stop,” my brain dries up. I can’t think of a thing to say.

I think I’ve talked about this in a blog post before. Probably one day when I was writing about not writing. It’s all very well to say that writing about not writing is still writing, but apparently I do not have much to say about not writing.

But I digress.

Wait a minute, how do I digress on Lame Post Friday? This is the day my mind is allowed to flutter hither and thither (is it thither or tither? Or is the proper expression hither and yon?). Random observations, remember?

What I was about to observe about blog writing is that willy nilly spontaneity seems to fit right in. Many bloggers just write what they feel, composing at the keyboard and letting it go. It’s a great form of self expression. Of course, it doesn’t have to be that way. Other blogs are thought out, tinkered with and polished. That’s a great form of self expression, too.

I don’t really know where I was going with this.

But I wrote it on my break at work, and after work I am typing it into my computer. I’m busy and flustered and 80 to 90 percent whelmed, so I’m letting it stand. It may be ridiculous, but this is my post for today. Thank you for playing.

Tale of my Toes

I’d been wanting a pedicure for a couple of months now. I don’t usually wait for sandal weather; I like a pedicure any time. For one thing, I can’t seem to clip my own toenails properly and so get ingrown ones. And I never do the pumice stone thing right, either. I like to leave these things to the professionals.

Now that we’ve skipped right from spring into summer, it seemed even more imperative to have pretty toes. When I remembered that this Saturday was my sisters’ wine tasting trip, and I might want to wear sandals, my situation seemed dire.

I know, some of you are saying, “Come on! Dire?” (While nice ladies with pretty toes are nodding wisely in agreement.) I’m working overtime, I have rehearsals three days a week, I have a dog to walk a house to clean, laundry to do, a husband NOT to neglect… other people may handle their overcrowded schedules with panache (although I doubt it). I feel… if not overwhelmed, at least 80 to 90 percent whelmed.

Wednesday was the best day to get my pedicure. The operative thing to do was to make a four o’clock appointment and bring my sandals to work, so I could go straight to my appointment and not upset my dog (she hates it when you come home then leave right away). Of course I neglected to make said appointment. Maybe I could call from work. I forgot the sandals. Maybe all of you would see your way clear, but I pondered and dithered. Finally I found Hot Spot’s phone number in the phone book and called during lunch. A 4:30 appointment was open. I could go home, shower and change. I would disappoint my dog, but sometimes these things can’t be helped.

Of course getting couldn’t be easy with me. I wanted to go down Washington Street. I wondered if I really wanted to go by the courthouse, which at this time of day would probably have a lot of car and foot traffic. I reasoned that I would have time to make it through and it was the least complicated way to go. Then I got so absorbed in maneuvering through four way stops on German Street that I missed the turn. Now it was complicated. I turned right at the next opportunity and hoped for the best. I hope everybody realizes that missing a turn in Herkimer is not always easily fixed by a drive around the block. The blocks are not the squares and rectangles we expect. But my walking and running in the area stood me in good stead. I came out on Washington below the court house. Yay me. I can never do these things on purpose, but sometimes they work out.

I found a parking space a little ways down from the Hot Spot. Of course, as I walked to the door I saw at least three closer spots, but you can’t count on these things.

As soon as I walked in, Claire greeted me and said she’d be right with me. Then I turned around and walked back out, because I realized I had left my book in the truck. It’s the kind of day I’d been having (as you can tell). No matter. Once I had my feet in the warm, bubbly water, I knew I had done the right thing. Claire said she had an eyebrow waxing but would be right back.

“Take your time,” I said. “Now that I’m soaking, I’m happy.”

I opened my book about the Last Woman Hanged: Roxalana Druse, but part of me wanted to stare at nail polish colors and ponder my choice. A paragraph in, the book had my full attention. I was hoping to finish it by this weekend, because my mother and at least one sister want to borrow it.

Once Claire was working on my feet, though, it was more pleasant to chat. I told her about wine tasting and showed her my book. This led to a discussion of murderesses in general and the show Snapped. A lady and her daughter were also getting pedicures, and the girl doing theirs (I foolishly did not get her name) said she watched Snapped all the time.

“My fiance tells me, ‘Don’t get any ideas!'”

Claire brought up the movie Conviction, about a man wrongfully accused. The young girl who was getting a pedicure had heard a talk by Steven Barnes at her school. Barnes, in case you didn’t know, is a local man who served 18 years for a crime he did not commit. He was exonerated, but the real murderer has not been caught.

When it came time to pick my color, I first thought a neon pink which had been considered by the lady next to me. Then Claire pointed out a purple, which was also new.

“That seems more like you,” she said.

I felt so pleased by the recommendation, because it showed that Claire remembered me from previous visits. In fact, it’s been at least a year since I’ve been to the Hot Spot. I certainly won’t wait that long again. It was a great recommendation, too. I love my purple toes. I did not make a note of the color name. Something Plum, I think. It doesn’t really matter, because I never do the same color twice in a row.

I was sorry to put on socks and shoes for work this morning (not too sorry, though; safety first). Even if the temperatures cool off on Saturday, I will probably try to wear sandals for at least part of our wine tasting tour.

Hot Spot is located at 121 E. Albany St., Herkimer, NY, phone number 315-866-9113. You can also find them on Facebook.

A Not So Fun Run

Since Sunday’s run went so well, I felt quite confident setting out on Tuesday. Silly me.

I had spent the afternoon at work feeling the warm temperature, watching clouds come and go, and pondering my life for the week. With only twenty-four hours in the day, ten of them devoted to work and a certain number (rarely high enough) to sleep, one can’t do everything one would like. In the army there was always some officer or NCO ready to intone the mantra, “Time management,” as if it were some magic formula that actually increased said 24 hours. Of course, they never gave the formula or even any specific organizational tips. I’m sure they did what I do: NOT everything.

That was a digression (sneaking in a middle-aged musing, I suppose). To get back on track (appropriate for a running post), I chose to run. I noticed right away that it was warm and humid. Of course I had been noticing that all day, but now it was emphasized.

I saw a young man run down the street I intended to turn onto. I thought briefly of turning the other way, then decided not to flatter myself. There was little chance of my catching a pedestrian let along a young man running.

He was dressed in black. I don’t like to dress in black on the bright, sunny days. I get too hot. I had searched my drawers for a large, white shirt. I found a Hummel’s Office Plus t-shirt we had purchased at a rummage sale at our church a few years ago.

It was soon clear that this would not be an easy run. My legs acted as if they had never run one step ever in their lives and I was ridiculous for asking them to. I wondered if this was the difference between running in forty degree weather and running in seventy degree weather. Then I thought it was more likely the difference between running in the morning of a day off and running after ten hours of work.

But if there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s how to persevere through a difficult run. I started looking for things to mention in my blog, to distract myself. I saw a lady walking a dalmatian, a beautiful dog. They were on the other side of the street, so I could not ask to pet the dog, as I like to do. I was pleased that there were no puddles, especially as I ran down a section of Caroline Street where there is often a deep one. My bunions have been saying rain, but they often say that a day or two before it actually does.

Soon I was having trouble with my breathing. Nothing too serious. Only, with my sinuses it is next to impossible to do the “in through your nose out through your mouth” thing they say you’re supposed to do. My throat dried out in an uncomfortable fashion. I experimented with breathing through my nose. No good. I remembered that a friend had recommended concentrating on my exhale at times like this. Make sure I’m getting rid of the bad air to make room for the good. That seemed to help. I wished I had run toward the spring so I could stop for a drink. I thought about the bottle of ice water I had waiting for me on my deck and was encouraged to keep moving.

When I was almost home, I passed a couple of ladies with kids and dogs, pushing a four-seat stroller.

“Is there room for me in that stroller thing?” I called.

“There is!” one answered. “I’ll give you a piggy back — you look like you’re working way too hard!”

“I’m trying!”

She started to say something about being an anti-runner, but I was past before she finished. That’s the trouble with these running conversations; sometimes you miss the good parts.

I managed to keep running for my set length of time. I thought that was pretty good of me. I confess I spent a good portion of my run saying, “Each step is one more step I can make on the Boilermaker.” I know it’s a difficult run when I notice each step.

But you’ll have difficult runs. I could say something profound about making it through difficult times in life, but I think we all get the idea. Maybe that could be some of my half-baked philosophy for Lame Post Friday.