are you gonna be in my dreams tonight?

Ah, Thursday. Sure to be one busy-ass day.

I hopped out of bed after a night of dreaming about

(1) being bitten by a dog (I jumped back over the fence once I had a hammer just to hit the little bastard on the leg with it) and

(2) running

in order to start my day by... running!

It was 36 degrees out by my thermometer. I’ve got a lot to learn about what gear to use. How does one dress for running in this weather? As much as I hate being cold, I couldn’t stand the idea of being in the middle of a long run and being over-insulated. That never feels good. So I went with long shorts (that’s an odd phrase), long-sleeve Easton compression shirt under a long-sleeve t-shirt, and, uh, socks and shoes.

I hoped I’d exert myself enough to offset the cold and be fine.

I almost did.

***

Let me tell ya, when I started off I was running FAST! I was desperate to warm up. I must have looked like a Benny Hill skit sans “Yackety Sax.” A half mile in I thought I’d be okay, but running in such cold is still odd. For a long stretch I could feel the muscles and tendons and whatnot in my left hand with every footfall. God that’s strange.

I didn’t sweat much, of course, but the parts that did sweat got even colder. At first I tried to blow it off, tried to think about what an amazing machine the body is, and how it’s designed so well to cool itself during exertion. Then I began to wonder exactly why it’s so doggone important for my ass-crack to be cool.

***

I startled a few squirrels as they descended their trees for breakfast. And there’s something really bitchin’ about listening to Soundgarden’s “Into the Void” (yeah, the old Sabbath tune) as the sun emerges over the tree tops.

***

And it went well, stamina-wise. Six miles in 63:45. I know I slowed down a lot, and hell, I did the first mile in about 30 seconds.

I could have gone farther, but there simply wasn’t time. When I got home the whole family was up. THEBOY and I startled each other at the back door.

***

Temperature when I got home: 37.5 degrees.

***

I saw other joggers, none bundled less than I. One woman was in a full hooded sweat suit with a stocking cap over that. She looked like an Oompa Loompa. That’s not a judgment, just a fact.

She had on a lot of mascara for some reason, and that struck me as unnecessary. If I notice it as I jog past you, breathing through my mouth, wondering if the pain in my calf matters, eyes blurry from running into the frigid wind, it’s too much mascara.

See, now THAT was a judgment.

***

Tonight I’ve also got a test in appraisal/assessment, and I haven’t taken it seriously enough. I’m a bit burned out, and I’ve focused my energy on Saturday’s development presentation.

***

This weekend after the presentation I’ll be a raving hedonist. I ain’t doing JACK (save for running Sunday morning). I wish I could find someplayce to watch UFC 56 , but I know of no place that carries those particular PPV events.

And Sunday night, of course, is Paul McCartney. Oh yeah, all right… are you gonna be in my dreams tonight?