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I’ve decided to, once again, do something inadvisable. I know, none of you are surprised by this. Doing inadvisable things seems to be my specialty – like drinking 5 cups of coffee for breakfast (thought I was going to have a heart attack), doing a 20 mile trail run in the middle of the summer with one bottle of water (thought I was going to die of heatstroke), getting lost after a trail run while trying to find my car (thought I was going to have to be rescued by a wandering group of Cub Scouts), or running over a plain clothes cop in a parking lot with my SUV because I thought he was trying to attack a woman (he was, but just so he could arrest her). My history of doing dumb things is long and varied.
And I never seem to learn.
But, because I’ve been in a bit of a funk, I decided the only smart (read: dumb) thing to do would be to sign up for a 100 miler this weekend. I mean, what cures a funk (especially one that involves jet lag, illness and overall malaise) better than a long, long, long run in the heat? Really. I actually tried to sign up for some cooking classes at the Cordon Bleu, but couldn’t find any that worked (and didn’t cost a million dollars), so a nice 100 miler seemed like the best alternative.
If I survive it. Because it is a trail 100. And we all know I’m a klutz. And that I get lost. All the time. Which is why I try to stay on roads where there are street signs, and people, and cell signal, and medical help.
But there’s no turning back now. I’ve paid my entry, bought a plane ticket, and booked the hotel. I’m going, whether it is idiotic, or not.
But I had to do something. You can’t stay “funky” forever. Oh well, if this doesn’t work, I can always come back and sign up for the cooking classes. I wonder how dangerous I would be with sharp knives?