A warm south wind kissed my face as I prepared for tonight's adventure. With little time to head to the pleasures found on the trail, I decided to continue my efforts to build endurance on the concreted roads proximal to my abode.
I started of slowly and festively and upon completion of my first mile, I began to wonder if my intended 3 miles and a half more would be somewhat of a manageable affair and began to plan on the addition of more miles.
However my bowels did not seem to hold the same opinion and I found myself searching with frantic energy for a solution to the erupting dilemma. I have heard that true ultra-runners face this issue several times in a long race and successful runners have the most outstanding of skills to manage issues such as this with the highest of efficiencies. Within my proprinquity there are many street repairs occuring and I curse them enthusiastically as I attempt to traverse them. But with a large congregation of street repairmen, there are also large congregations of portable Necessary Modules. With great fortune there was one nearby and with before unseen speed I raced for it with great enthusiasm as I held my bottom and felt blessed that it was not occupied upon my arrival. I will spare you the details of what exactly incurred within the walls of that small sanctuary, except for the fact that one necessary item that is needed upon completetion of such a ghastly act was indeed of a poorer quality than I am accustomed to. A feeling of sandpaper comes to mind when I recollect its usage. I had limited options at this time other than trying to reach a family member through cellular phone communication (help for I have fallen and I have no corn cobs - please pick me up with great haste) . Therefore, I made the unsound decision to continue my journey.
However, I still felt ensured that my plan to add miles was not in jeopardy so I continued at my slow pace with hopes of adding an additional 1 mile and half more. By the time I was able to complete the second mile, a burning began in my loins that had not been felt since I was diapered (which was yesterday). With much dismay I concluded that a serious rash was forming. The Chafe of Booty was upon me with the greatest of force. I have chosen to spare you a graphic description of this indignity other than to tell you I forced myself to continue running with perhaps my greatest display of dedication. And undeniable stupidity.
When I returned home, an immediate soaking in the tubbery (and to think it is not even Saturday) was immediately completed which was proceeded by a most generous application of Ointment of A & D (of which I feel, at this time, is the greatest of inventions this world has known).
After researching this ailment, I found that many runners have experienced similar tragedies and thusly I feel this is a badge of honor and take great pride in my accomplishment (but not to the point of skipping another application of the great ointment).
Tonight's run totaled 5 miles and now I have a new weapon in my arsenal to aid me in my quest to DFL: The Cursed Chafe!
Hark! Last Place is Mine!
Wednesday, July 18, 2012
Monday, July 16, 2012
A Road Revisited
With this week's off running activities diminishing my hopes of staying on schedule, I decided to run on my off day. As I pondered this decision while eating my evening's meal of battered steak with ample amounts of gravy with potatoes mashed with cow's milk, I questioned if there was any way to get some miles in without risk of extreme muddiness. It was at this time I felt my best option was to run through the neighborhood for tomorrow's planned 3 miles us a half more tonight instead of on the morrow. I felt somewhat comfortable running through the streets. I have done so on many occasions and very poorly I might add. Some of these runs were intentional and some were for avoidance of local and international law enforcement agents.
I totalled a sloppy 3.6 miles and as my run reach completence, I felt that my pace and form did not damage my chances of finishing last in any future running engagements.
As I rung out my sweat filled attire in the front yard in a state of partial nudity, I was approached by my son Branden who evidently had been listening to a modern comedic minstrel who sang songs in an operatic manner. I obviously felt honored that Branden chose to put some words of my running exploits in operatic form and shared them with me.
I will try to recite the verse for you now in hopes that they will give you unbridled pleasure:
Me Father-o
He run slow-lo
He went puke-o
On the side-o
When he skips-o
Along the trail-o
Everybody in the town call him
The El Slap-o Ultra- Idio-lo
I am pleased that my efforts have been heralded in song and am quite sure that this song would be well received by the adoring public, sheep and other various forms of swine and livestockery.
I totalled a sloppy 3.6 miles and as my run reach completence, I felt that my pace and form did not damage my chances of finishing last in any future running engagements.
As I rung out my sweat filled attire in the front yard in a state of partial nudity, I was approached by my son Branden who evidently had been listening to a modern comedic minstrel who sang songs in an operatic manner. I obviously felt honored that Branden chose to put some words of my running exploits in operatic form and shared them with me.
I will try to recite the verse for you now in hopes that they will give you unbridled pleasure:
Me Father-o
He run slow-lo
He went puke-o
On the side-o
When he skips-o
Along the trail-o
Everybody in the town call him
The El Slap-o Ultra- Idio-lo
I am pleased that my efforts have been heralded in song and am quite sure that this song would be well received by the adoring public, sheep and other various forms of swine and livestockery.
Sunday, July 15, 2012
An Unexpected Mud Run
With my work duties in a semi-state of calmness after much activity, I felt inspired to attempt a run after supper's meal. A brief yet intense summer squall put the fate of the run in question, but the skies cleared as I pulled into Cedar Ridge Preserve and I felt with some confidence that my run would be completed with little complication.
As I began the run, I silently celebrated the cooler temperatures and was quite pleased that I surprisingly had a hop in my step that I had been missing since my surgery. Unfortunately my hop became more of an unorganized shuttle. The trails were inundated with mud due to the previous storm. Mentally noting that I had some experience with running in mud, I forged ahead but knew that the boggy conditions would prohibit me from running any great distances. The mud became such a hindrance that each step was accompanied by scraps of mud flinging about in resemblance of a diarrhea cannon. Frequent stops to scrape my shoes clean were needed in order to traverse even the easiest of trail sections. However, I was pleased that at least I would get a limited amount of work in and happily skipped along slowly with enthusiasm and gayness.
The final tally was a paltry 2.3 miles. Not near the 7 miles total I had hoped for, but at least I was satisfied with my fortune of accomplishing any training at all. Additionally, I surmised that it takes great dedication to finish DFL and this run did not in any way hurt my chances of doing so!
And with great pride I would like to announce that I have worked out a sound strategy that will all but ensure my chances of finishing DFL come November hence. I will share this strategy with all my loyal readers soon. But firstly I wish to finalize my plan so that I can present it to you confidently and with great pride.
I have attached a couple of photographs to give some detail of tonight's run and sincerely wish that they give you some enjoyment. One is a photograph of me headbanded in the Necessary Room upon run completion. The headband performed a satisfactory job of keeping my eyes clear of sweat and I am pleased with its performance, as well as it making me appear as a lead singer of Loverboy. I also captured a photograph of my shoes AFTER I cleaned them before leaving. This will give you, the reader, a clear picture of the conditions of which challenged me this evening!
My total miles this week totaled a flaccid and feeble 10.6. With my quest to finish DFL, I know that I will need to increase my mileage this coming week and look forward with great hope that I will able to achieve many disastrous runs in the next 7 days!
As I began the run, I silently celebrated the cooler temperatures and was quite pleased that I surprisingly had a hop in my step that I had been missing since my surgery. Unfortunately my hop became more of an unorganized shuttle. The trails were inundated with mud due to the previous storm. Mentally noting that I had some experience with running in mud, I forged ahead but knew that the boggy conditions would prohibit me from running any great distances. The mud became such a hindrance that each step was accompanied by scraps of mud flinging about in resemblance of a diarrhea cannon. Frequent stops to scrape my shoes clean were needed in order to traverse even the easiest of trail sections. However, I was pleased that at least I would get a limited amount of work in and happily skipped along slowly with enthusiasm and gayness.
The final tally was a paltry 2.3 miles. Not near the 7 miles total I had hoped for, but at least I was satisfied with my fortune of accomplishing any training at all. Additionally, I surmised that it takes great dedication to finish DFL and this run did not in any way hurt my chances of doing so!
And with great pride I would like to announce that I have worked out a sound strategy that will all but ensure my chances of finishing DFL come November hence. I will share this strategy with all my loyal readers soon. But firstly I wish to finalize my plan so that I can present it to you confidently and with great pride.
I have attached a couple of photographs to give some detail of tonight's run and sincerely wish that they give you some enjoyment. One is a photograph of me headbanded in the Necessary Room upon run completion. The headband performed a satisfactory job of keeping my eyes clear of sweat and I am pleased with its performance, as well as it making me appear as a lead singer of Loverboy. I also captured a photograph of my shoes AFTER I cleaned them before leaving. This will give you, the reader, a clear picture of the conditions of which challenged me this evening!
My total miles this week totaled a flaccid and feeble 10.6. With my quest to finish DFL, I know that I will need to increase my mileage this coming week and look forward with great hope that I will able to achieve many disastrous runs in the next 7 days!
Thursday, July 12, 2012
Gateway's Mysteries Yet Unsolved
Run #3 Post Surgery
After the near deadly fall into an increasingly raging torrent the day before, I was resolved to complete today's journey with minimal consequences. My employer has dispatched me to work through the weekend and I fear that the lack of time will prohibit me from any intentional running on days to come.
Before I left the trailhead at the wonderfully gay Gateway Park, I spent many valuable seconds studying the map I had previously allocated. Perhaps with great deliberations, I would be able to recollect from whence my wrong turn occurred the night before and with great luck I could correct the misfortunate disaster that nearly took place one day past and no more.
After folding the map neatly in my pocket, I took off with great courage to run 4 miles and to avoid running off a cliff scaring not families of innocent creatures.
Fortunately for myself I approached a group of mustached enthusiasts on mountain bikes near mile one and I was able to follow them for a brief way. With this unscheduled turn of events, I would surely be able to avoid certain off-trail catastrophes and would be able to complete my jaunt.
It is with deep regret that i report that I evidently missed a goodly portion of the trail because within a brief 33 minutes more I was nearing the trail's end! I checked my timepiece and and I had only run 2 and 4 tenths miles! What great mysteries this trail breeds that appear beyond my capability to unravel. My ancient maps must be incorrect! Yet I am determined with great vigilance to crack the code that befuddles me.
Despite the fact that my run was greatly shortened due to map inaccuracies, which I'm quite certain were probably placed in my hands by enemies, I feel somewhat pleased that I kept my pace very minimal. This will no doubt be able to prepare me for last place success!
This weekend coming forth, I will not greatly record my running mis-adventures due to work obligations.
I bid all a great weekend! Please do not wish me a good weekend. Because of my work duties, it will feel like a humiliating kick to the nether regions!
After the near deadly fall into an increasingly raging torrent the day before, I was resolved to complete today's journey with minimal consequences. My employer has dispatched me to work through the weekend and I fear that the lack of time will prohibit me from any intentional running on days to come.
Before I left the trailhead at the wonderfully gay Gateway Park, I spent many valuable seconds studying the map I had previously allocated. Perhaps with great deliberations, I would be able to recollect from whence my wrong turn occurred the night before and with great luck I could correct the misfortunate disaster that nearly took place one day past and no more.
After folding the map neatly in my pocket, I took off with great courage to run 4 miles and to avoid running off a cliff scaring not families of innocent creatures.
Fortunately for myself I approached a group of mustached enthusiasts on mountain bikes near mile one and I was able to follow them for a brief way. With this unscheduled turn of events, I would surely be able to avoid certain off-trail catastrophes and would be able to complete my jaunt.
It is with deep regret that i report that I evidently missed a goodly portion of the trail because within a brief 33 minutes more I was nearing the trail's end! I checked my timepiece and and I had only run 2 and 4 tenths miles! What great mysteries this trail breeds that appear beyond my capability to unravel. My ancient maps must be incorrect! Yet I am determined with great vigilance to crack the code that befuddles me.
Despite the fact that my run was greatly shortened due to map inaccuracies, which I'm quite certain were probably placed in my hands by enemies, I feel somewhat pleased that I kept my pace very minimal. This will no doubt be able to prepare me for last place success!
This weekend coming forth, I will not greatly record my running mis-adventures due to work obligations.
I bid all a great weekend! Please do not wish me a good weekend. Because of my work duties, it will feel like a humiliating kick to the nether regions!
Wednesday, July 11, 2012
Slothfulness Employed to Prevent a Traumatic Tumble
2nd Run Since Surgery...
After yesterday's escape from a raging mob threatening to lynch me for creating terror amongst women and small children, I deemed Cedar Ridge Preserve off limits for today's amble. After quick deliberation, I decided that Gateway Park would be a reasonable choice due to its proximity to the office of my chosen profession.
With not a very soul in site except for a small gathering of mustached Peruvians discussing aged nude camps a goodly 50 yards from the trailhead, I was fortunate to embark on today's journey with minimal distraction.
I was able to allocate an ancient map of the trail before my arrival through questionably legal means earlier this day. Thus with a quick study of the route before me, my confidence in staying reasonably close on the planned path was minimally high.
As I embarked on my journey, I reminded my self in due course that this path is not technically challenging. Therefore today's mantra would be You Can Always Run Slower. This was especially powerful because the muscles of my legs were painfully sore from yesterday's pathetic effort.
True to my prognostication of this trail offering little challenge, I began my run with confidence that today's effort could be moderately successful (despite my inadequate fitness).
With few technical features, I was able to gloriously jaunt through the first 1/2 mile and a 1/2 more with little incident of which caused me any concern.
After a quick sip from my hydration bladder, I came upon a sheltered pavilion which seemed to be at some recent time a gathering place for people to enjoy cheaper malted libations. This assessment was made from the abundant numbers of discarded adult beverage cans that had made their home throughout the immediate area. I checked my map and with great shock deduced that somehow I had escaped from my predestined path and was apparently not where I had hoped to be. With a quick recalculation, I headed towards the other side of the pavilion while avoiding the discarded aluminum land mines that were obviously placed to impede my progress. Upon reaching the other side of the pavilion, I seemed to right myself and began to progress down a trail that appeared to be heading in the proper direction. With little time lost, I felt with some confidence that I was back on schedule.
After many turns and switchbacks, I noticed that the condition of the trail began to degrade and I heard the sound of a nearby river. With great hope that a change in scenery would soon be upon me, I forged ahead. As I rounded a small turn I suddenly halted because not a 1/2 foot before me was a 20 feet cliff that rose above the afore mentioned river! Due to my quick and unplanned cessation of forward movement, dirt and rocks spilled into the waterway below me forcing a family of terrapins to quickly jump into the river. They were obviously annoyed at my clumsiness and appeared fearful that I would soon join them. I instantly grabbed a tree limb to keep from sliding any further. The path had continued to my right along the cusp of the cliff. With great care and by employing the usage of many limbs and branches I was able to maneuver slowly along the path as I knocked a goodly amount of dirt and rocks over the edge of the cliff into the river with great ruckus. This caused another family of terrapins to suddenly launch into the river, clearly not wanting to be anywhere near my impending landing below.
After clearing the edge of the cliff, I felt with great relief that my narrow path was moving back inland and I do not know if it was I nor the terrapins that were more the happy.
After initiating my run once more, I deduced that had I been a runner of even average speed, I would not have stopped in time at the afore mentioned cliff and would have been the victim of a most dehabilitating purge into depths unknown. Obviously I still had not regained passage on the correct pathway. But shortly thereafter, a new well traveled path appeared before me and I was able to begin my journey again, hopefully avoiding any serious consequences.
The rest of my run took place with little incident other than my pace causing a great shortness of breath. I applied my mantra and ran as slow as I could manage. My form resembled that of an aged man stumbling through the woods who had recently filled his diaper with filth, but was too senile to realize it.
Upon reaching my horseless carriage, I journeyed home to replenish my lagging nutrition. I feasted on a plate of sauced spaghetti that could nary be lifted by hand and filled my stomach so fully that it appeared I was the OctoMom just prior to birth. Then upon discovering a tasty dessert of strawberried shortcake, I consumed such a vast quantity of it that it took great effort to see the toes of my feet beneath me when standing due to the expansion of my midsection.
I am beaching myself within my bedchamber at this time, fervently praying that the terrapins did not follow me home to pay me back for interrupting their pre-dusk slumber.
Miles Ran - 3.6
Cliffs Fallen Off Of - 0
After yesterday's escape from a raging mob threatening to lynch me for creating terror amongst women and small children, I deemed Cedar Ridge Preserve off limits for today's amble. After quick deliberation, I decided that Gateway Park would be a reasonable choice due to its proximity to the office of my chosen profession.
With not a very soul in site except for a small gathering of mustached Peruvians discussing aged nude camps a goodly 50 yards from the trailhead, I was fortunate to embark on today's journey with minimal distraction.
I was able to allocate an ancient map of the trail before my arrival through questionably legal means earlier this day. Thus with a quick study of the route before me, my confidence in staying reasonably close on the planned path was minimally high.
As I embarked on my journey, I reminded my self in due course that this path is not technically challenging. Therefore today's mantra would be You Can Always Run Slower. This was especially powerful because the muscles of my legs were painfully sore from yesterday's pathetic effort.
True to my prognostication of this trail offering little challenge, I began my run with confidence that today's effort could be moderately successful (despite my inadequate fitness).
With few technical features, I was able to gloriously jaunt through the first 1/2 mile and a 1/2 more with little incident of which caused me any concern.
After a quick sip from my hydration bladder, I came upon a sheltered pavilion which seemed to be at some recent time a gathering place for people to enjoy cheaper malted libations. This assessment was made from the abundant numbers of discarded adult beverage cans that had made their home throughout the immediate area. I checked my map and with great shock deduced that somehow I had escaped from my predestined path and was apparently not where I had hoped to be. With a quick recalculation, I headed towards the other side of the pavilion while avoiding the discarded aluminum land mines that were obviously placed to impede my progress. Upon reaching the other side of the pavilion, I seemed to right myself and began to progress down a trail that appeared to be heading in the proper direction. With little time lost, I felt with some confidence that I was back on schedule.
After many turns and switchbacks, I noticed that the condition of the trail began to degrade and I heard the sound of a nearby river. With great hope that a change in scenery would soon be upon me, I forged ahead. As I rounded a small turn I suddenly halted because not a 1/2 foot before me was a 20 feet cliff that rose above the afore mentioned river! Due to my quick and unplanned cessation of forward movement, dirt and rocks spilled into the waterway below me forcing a family of terrapins to quickly jump into the river. They were obviously annoyed at my clumsiness and appeared fearful that I would soon join them. I instantly grabbed a tree limb to keep from sliding any further. The path had continued to my right along the cusp of the cliff. With great care and by employing the usage of many limbs and branches I was able to maneuver slowly along the path as I knocked a goodly amount of dirt and rocks over the edge of the cliff into the river with great ruckus. This caused another family of terrapins to suddenly launch into the river, clearly not wanting to be anywhere near my impending landing below.
After clearing the edge of the cliff, I felt with great relief that my narrow path was moving back inland and I do not know if it was I nor the terrapins that were more the happy.
After initiating my run once more, I deduced that had I been a runner of even average speed, I would not have stopped in time at the afore mentioned cliff and would have been the victim of a most dehabilitating purge into depths unknown. Obviously I still had not regained passage on the correct pathway. But shortly thereafter, a new well traveled path appeared before me and I was able to begin my journey again, hopefully avoiding any serious consequences.
The rest of my run took place with little incident other than my pace causing a great shortness of breath. I applied my mantra and ran as slow as I could manage. My form resembled that of an aged man stumbling through the woods who had recently filled his diaper with filth, but was too senile to realize it.
Upon reaching my horseless carriage, I journeyed home to replenish my lagging nutrition. I feasted on a plate of sauced spaghetti that could nary be lifted by hand and filled my stomach so fully that it appeared I was the OctoMom just prior to birth. Then upon discovering a tasty dessert of strawberried shortcake, I consumed such a vast quantity of it that it took great effort to see the toes of my feet beneath me when standing due to the expansion of my midsection.
I am beaching myself within my bedchamber at this time, fervently praying that the terrapins did not follow me home to pay me back for interrupting their pre-dusk slumber.
Miles Ran - 3.6
Cliffs Fallen Off Of - 0
Tuesday, July 10, 2012
How to Be Victorious in Being Defeated
Day 16 AS (After Surgery). My quest to return to my running struggles has begun in earnest. After completion of my jobly dispatches, I found partially clear skies awaiting me as I headed to Cedar Ridge Preserve to once again begin my training with much enthusiasm and vigor. I decided that 2-4 miles would indeed be a goodly amount to begin with and I embarked upon my victorious return to mediocrity.
The first leg of my journey was the perfect picture of the despicable footwork, form and fitness. I beganst at a slow pitiful pace then decided that since I was currently in vertical orientation, a slower pace would be needed to improve my chances at unconsciousness.
I feel it is most important that I produce the fact that since a fair crowd appeared to be around the trailhead upon my arrival, I had decided to take the hardest and most daring trail at the preserve. This haste decision was based on the premise that I did not wish other patrons of this crowded byway to be involuntarily sprayed with the leftover contents of my stomach. Which most surely contained remnants of a 12inch Subway sandwich that was
rapidly consumed at my mid-day's meal with a modest amount of fried chips of potato (Sponsorship Opportunities are flourishing!). I humbly felt that this sacrificial decision would not be properly appreciated by the proximal patrons.
My mantra during the beginning stages of this modest training endeavor was to Just Run. A simple yet inspiring mantra by any stretch of the imagination!
As I approached mile 1.3, my mantra metamorphosed into Just Breath for I am certain that I resembled a carp that had been caught by a crafty mustached fisherman and hastily thrown ashore; struggling to breath as it flopped spastically on the shore of an aged nude encampment.
As I violently struck upon mile 1.9, My Mantra modified lastly to Why Are These Children Running From Me Screaming as I emerged from the depths of the wooded trail. It is as if my gait and stiff limbs appeared to resemble a zombie that had arose from the grave! Nonetheless, I ignored their invidious screams of horror as I confusedly wandered around the entrance searching for my means of transport as crowds of terrified persons dispersed on my approach. Scattering about as if I been just birthed from the bowels of Hell!
Finally, I was able to locate my horseless carriage despite great difficulty. And with a quick voluminous dispatch of bile upon my shirt, I rigidly crawled into the seat to begin my return to my humblest of abodes.
I find that if you can not be fast and of fit means, perhaps it is not so disfavorable to be slow and shockingly cadaverous!
Total Mileage Today - 2.2
Total People Frightened - 27
Before and After Pictures Attached for clarification purposes.
The first leg of my journey was the perfect picture of the despicable footwork, form and fitness. I beganst at a slow pitiful pace then decided that since I was currently in vertical orientation, a slower pace would be needed to improve my chances at unconsciousness.
I feel it is most important that I produce the fact that since a fair crowd appeared to be around the trailhead upon my arrival, I had decided to take the hardest and most daring trail at the preserve. This haste decision was based on the premise that I did not wish other patrons of this crowded byway to be involuntarily sprayed with the leftover contents of my stomach. Which most surely contained remnants of a 12inch Subway sandwich that was
rapidly consumed at my mid-day's meal with a modest amount of fried chips of potato (Sponsorship Opportunities are flourishing!). I humbly felt that this sacrificial decision would not be properly appreciated by the proximal patrons.
My mantra during the beginning stages of this modest training endeavor was to Just Run. A simple yet inspiring mantra by any stretch of the imagination!
As I approached mile 1.3, my mantra metamorphosed into Just Breath for I am certain that I resembled a carp that had been caught by a crafty mustached fisherman and hastily thrown ashore; struggling to breath as it flopped spastically on the shore of an aged nude encampment.
As I violently struck upon mile 1.9, My Mantra modified lastly to Why Are These Children Running From Me Screaming as I emerged from the depths of the wooded trail. It is as if my gait and stiff limbs appeared to resemble a zombie that had arose from the grave! Nonetheless, I ignored their invidious screams of horror as I confusedly wandered around the entrance searching for my means of transport as crowds of terrified persons dispersed on my approach. Scattering about as if I been just birthed from the bowels of Hell!
Finally, I was able to locate my horseless carriage despite great difficulty. And with a quick voluminous dispatch of bile upon my shirt, I rigidly crawled into the seat to begin my return to my humblest of abodes.
I find that if you can not be fast and of fit means, perhaps it is not so disfavorable to be slow and shockingly cadaverous!
Total Mileage Today - 2.2
Total People Frightened - 27
Before and After Pictures Attached for clarification purposes.
A Wounded Phoenix Prepares to Arise....
It is with great displeasure that I transcribe these bitter yet humble words. Forgive me for it has been 18 days since my last blogflection. But as I prepare for my ascent from this shallow grave, I feel compelled to inform you of my current state and let you dispose your own opinion of the indignities that befelled me.
The surgical intervention, according to the Barbaric Butcher (whose wolfskin headdress and g-string made of empty gord which was proudly displayed casting a medieval foreshadowing of my almost certain peril), was quite successful. But I do not share such sentiment. Upon awakening from the vile cocktail that thankfully placed me in an amnesiac slumber, the horrors had just begun to rear their ugly heads from the Depths of Purgatory. Whilst the surgery was complete, this tale of darkness had just begun....
Upon being told that once bodily function and excretion can be returned with confidence, I would be allowed to exscape this Prison of Pain and return to my most humble domicile to convalesce peacefully. Despite many stumbles to the Necessary Room, my faith in such an occurence began to dwindle quite rapidly. After numerous attempts to dispose of any waste, rather by accident or intention and my inability to walk such a short distance without causing unknown objects to rapidy crash to the ground due to an induced foggy stupor, it became known to me by persons employed at the Infirmary that my exodus from capture would not take place unless graphic tubal intervention of catheterous proportions took place!
At this time, I did what any courageous and God Fearing man would do when faced with such circumstances. I made a plea to all of humanity that surely someone of nearby proximity needs to borrow my Necessary Room for their own relief! And to show my appreciation and honor of such kindly act, that person would need not dispose of their waste by flushing the Throne of Uselessness. I would be quite honored and pleased to handle such a degrading and meaningless act upon its completion and proudly show such Golden Elixir to the Evil Nurse who was making no attempt to nurse me at all.
But alas, all of humanity declined my wailing pleas and walked around me as if I was deemed mad and unsafe. As I began to crawl away in my escape attempt down the never ending corridor, a gentleman with an apparent nice disposition distinguishly dressed as an electrician with a mustache resembling that of a bicycle handlebar approached me and offered his kindly assistance to facilitate my escape. He picked me up gently and with great care lead me back to my Dungeon of Dispair as I thanked him profusely for his tenderness and compassion. Hark Humanity Lives!
It is with deepest concern for your sanity that I describe the next moments! He placed me softly upon the bed and then forced me down applying restraints that appeared out of nowhere. Then smirkingly placed a cloth over my midsection. With shocking horror I realized that this gentleman is in fact no gentleman at all. But a Demon with full intent on causing me great pain. He produced a long tube that was fastened to a clear empty bag and then began to (I write this with a complete lack of any dignity whatsoever) force the tube millimeter by millimeter (metric system used for dramatic effect) through a bodily member that was clearly not designed for such an act. The pain was unbearable as my life passed before me. I heard screams of anguish and knew that someone nearby was simularly suffering and too was at death's door. Then I realized those screams from a soul that sounded as if it had been abandoned from God and all Mankind were animating from my own person. As vile liquids of various colors coursed from an unthinkable but very real source, out of my body and down the afore mentioned tube, I began to fade in and out of consciousness. As my bladder emptied its contents though the tube and into the waiting bag, my will to live emptied into certain oblivion. Darkness. Just Darkness...
Upon awakening with the greatest of discomfort, I saw that the mustachio'd gentleman imposter had cowardly fled the area and release papers were mysteriously left upon my bed. Evidence of the horrid crime was nowhere to be seen. Apparently I was free to leave at my own readiness. But in reality, the terror that envelopes my soul did not stay in that chamber of torture. I yet see it every instant that I close my eyes.
Upon my return home (which escapes my memory but not that of my hired driver who apparently had to deal with my repeated requests to be taken to McDonald's Playland so I could dance with Grimace), I decided that the only way to deal with rebuilding my health and dignity was to generously take advantage of the the healing ointments and pain reducing pills that were fortunately provided. They taketh my dignity and replace it with numbing narcotics!
The next 4 meals I ate violently left my body. Departing from my oral cavity with such loud upheaval that neighbors had a thought a crime of the most grotesque proportions had taken place! As I attempted to evacuate my violated bladder, it felt as if large pieces of forged glass were trapped inside me and were attempting to escape despite the bloodiest of consequences.
The next 6 days were filled with painful contractions and blood seepage at the surgical site which kept me in the most rabid discomfort and in need of constant undergarment changing.
But since Day 7 of My Apocalypse, I have been fortunate to make slow and almost indecipherable progress.
And at this time, 18 Days from my last blogfection, I have begun to plan my return to the trails of running imperfection so that I may once again complete my quest to DFL.
Yesterday I prepared to embark on a lightly trail run @ Cedar Ridge Preserve in an attempt to relieve my body of the recent events with toxic sweat. Perhaps a foolish attempt to detoxify my body. Yet as I turned into the entrance, a violent tempest reared upon me with large drops of rain and thunderous bolts of lightning that apparently caused distant professional athletes to cower in their dugouts. I abandoned my plans and thought it best to try again on the morrow.
Tonight I again attempted to take my humble efforts to Cedar Ridge Preserve, Then I remembered that the stately establishment does not open on Mondays. With flexible adjustment ability, I declared that I could certainly run around the neighborhood for 3 miles and half more with great ease. But as I departed, more lightning appeared with dark clouds fast approaching. This surely was not meant to be. For if God chooses to cleanse this area with rare July storms, I surely am not able to contest such acts. A message is being sent to me in such insubtle ways that I can not argue. I will attempt again tomorrow. If little else, the storms have allowed me to rekindle my enthusiasm for this blog.
I have adjusted the plans of my training so that despite my 2 week and 1 more hiatus, I shall be be on schedule to complete the race November henceforth with great confidence in my ability to create lasting indignities upon my person. For I have recently rehearsed such endeavors and now am adequately prepared to provide furtherence to such acts.
The surgical intervention, according to the Barbaric Butcher (whose wolfskin headdress and g-string made of empty gord which was proudly displayed casting a medieval foreshadowing of my almost certain peril), was quite successful. But I do not share such sentiment. Upon awakening from the vile cocktail that thankfully placed me in an amnesiac slumber, the horrors had just begun to rear their ugly heads from the Depths of Purgatory. Whilst the surgery was complete, this tale of darkness had just begun....
Upon being told that once bodily function and excretion can be returned with confidence, I would be allowed to exscape this Prison of Pain and return to my most humble domicile to convalesce peacefully. Despite many stumbles to the Necessary Room, my faith in such an occurence began to dwindle quite rapidly. After numerous attempts to dispose of any waste, rather by accident or intention and my inability to walk such a short distance without causing unknown objects to rapidy crash to the ground due to an induced foggy stupor, it became known to me by persons employed at the Infirmary that my exodus from capture would not take place unless graphic tubal intervention of catheterous proportions took place!
At this time, I did what any courageous and God Fearing man would do when faced with such circumstances. I made a plea to all of humanity that surely someone of nearby proximity needs to borrow my Necessary Room for their own relief! And to show my appreciation and honor of such kindly act, that person would need not dispose of their waste by flushing the Throne of Uselessness. I would be quite honored and pleased to handle such a degrading and meaningless act upon its completion and proudly show such Golden Elixir to the Evil Nurse who was making no attempt to nurse me at all.
But alas, all of humanity declined my wailing pleas and walked around me as if I was deemed mad and unsafe. As I began to crawl away in my escape attempt down the never ending corridor, a gentleman with an apparent nice disposition distinguishly dressed as an electrician with a mustache resembling that of a bicycle handlebar approached me and offered his kindly assistance to facilitate my escape. He picked me up gently and with great care lead me back to my Dungeon of Dispair as I thanked him profusely for his tenderness and compassion. Hark Humanity Lives!
It is with deepest concern for your sanity that I describe the next moments! He placed me softly upon the bed and then forced me down applying restraints that appeared out of nowhere. Then smirkingly placed a cloth over my midsection. With shocking horror I realized that this gentleman is in fact no gentleman at all. But a Demon with full intent on causing me great pain. He produced a long tube that was fastened to a clear empty bag and then began to (I write this with a complete lack of any dignity whatsoever) force the tube millimeter by millimeter (metric system used for dramatic effect) through a bodily member that was clearly not designed for such an act. The pain was unbearable as my life passed before me. I heard screams of anguish and knew that someone nearby was simularly suffering and too was at death's door. Then I realized those screams from a soul that sounded as if it had been abandoned from God and all Mankind were animating from my own person. As vile liquids of various colors coursed from an unthinkable but very real source, out of my body and down the afore mentioned tube, I began to fade in and out of consciousness. As my bladder emptied its contents though the tube and into the waiting bag, my will to live emptied into certain oblivion. Darkness. Just Darkness...
Upon awakening with the greatest of discomfort, I saw that the mustachio'd gentleman imposter had cowardly fled the area and release papers were mysteriously left upon my bed. Evidence of the horrid crime was nowhere to be seen. Apparently I was free to leave at my own readiness. But in reality, the terror that envelopes my soul did not stay in that chamber of torture. I yet see it every instant that I close my eyes.
Upon my return home (which escapes my memory but not that of my hired driver who apparently had to deal with my repeated requests to be taken to McDonald's Playland so I could dance with Grimace), I decided that the only way to deal with rebuilding my health and dignity was to generously take advantage of the the healing ointments and pain reducing pills that were fortunately provided. They taketh my dignity and replace it with numbing narcotics!
The next 4 meals I ate violently left my body. Departing from my oral cavity with such loud upheaval that neighbors had a thought a crime of the most grotesque proportions had taken place! As I attempted to evacuate my violated bladder, it felt as if large pieces of forged glass were trapped inside me and were attempting to escape despite the bloodiest of consequences.
The next 6 days were filled with painful contractions and blood seepage at the surgical site which kept me in the most rabid discomfort and in need of constant undergarment changing.
But since Day 7 of My Apocalypse, I have been fortunate to make slow and almost indecipherable progress.
And at this time, 18 Days from my last blogfection, I have begun to plan my return to the trails of running imperfection so that I may once again complete my quest to DFL.
Yesterday I prepared to embark on a lightly trail run @ Cedar Ridge Preserve in an attempt to relieve my body of the recent events with toxic sweat. Perhaps a foolish attempt to detoxify my body. Yet as I turned into the entrance, a violent tempest reared upon me with large drops of rain and thunderous bolts of lightning that apparently caused distant professional athletes to cower in their dugouts. I abandoned my plans and thought it best to try again on the morrow.
Tonight I again attempted to take my humble efforts to Cedar Ridge Preserve, Then I remembered that the stately establishment does not open on Mondays. With flexible adjustment ability, I declared that I could certainly run around the neighborhood for 3 miles and half more with great ease. But as I departed, more lightning appeared with dark clouds fast approaching. This surely was not meant to be. For if God chooses to cleanse this area with rare July storms, I surely am not able to contest such acts. A message is being sent to me in such insubtle ways that I can not argue. I will attempt again tomorrow. If little else, the storms have allowed me to rekindle my enthusiasm for this blog.
I have adjusted the plans of my training so that despite my 2 week and 1 more hiatus, I shall be be on schedule to complete the race November henceforth with great confidence in my ability to create lasting indignities upon my person. For I have recently rehearsed such endeavors and now am adequately prepared to provide furtherence to such acts.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)