A fairly typical 18 hours

I know, I know, I broke my promise to post yesterday, but really you are the better for it.  I had punched out a few paragraphs that seemed, upon further review, to be too stupid to see the light of day.  It was something about how the whole nightlife industry was based around hope and fear and how depressing it all is.  It was the kind of thing an obnoxious straight edge kid would write in his freshman year of college, and I decided that I didn't really believe it once I wrote it. 

In any event I did end up going out last night, and the whole thing was thoroughly pleasant in a goofy sort of way, and the hours rolled by rather easily.  I went to a wine bar with Puck, Klaus, and Kermit.  Puck informed me that he's starting a blog on his experiences in Washington, since he just moved here, and mentioned that he's going to used pseudonyms for everyone he writes about.  As you can probably tell by now I've decided to adopt this policy.  I have not yet reached to point in my life where I am out cavorting with Pucks and Kermits! I don't plan to necessarily write scandalous things about people in these pages, but I suppose its better to keep some cloak of anonymity to protect the not-so-innocent.  In addition it's fun coming up with fake names for people.  

The night proceeded inevitably to Nellies where I had an interesting conversation with my friend Max on the recent burqa ban France, which I'll post on separately so as to not confuse things.  But suffice to say, Max, like most Right Thinking People, disagreed with the ban while I supported it.  

In the morning, I brushed away my exhaustion and dragged myself out to the morning run with my running group.  It was a brilliant morning, slightly chilly in the shade but soothingly warm in the sunlight.  Such mornings are probably the perfect pairing for a cup of strong coffee, which is what I had before I ran.  

The coffee evidently helped me as I had a fairly strong run.  Nicely enough there was even some drama to it, as I started off slowly to chit-chat with Kermit about his upcoming races, but found myself trailing the lead runner, David, by a wide margin as I turned on to Rock Creek trail.  I think of David as about my equal as a runner, and so, being pathologically competitive about these things, I just had to catch up in short order to set the world right.  I shifted from my lazy relaxed form to a more serious pose and set about making up the distance.  

David was frisky this morning and running well, so it took some effort to get up to an adequate speed to close, but the dry, cool air was excellent fuel for my lungs and I was soon charging down the dirt trails at top speed.  As David's running figure got closer and closer it only encouraged my efforts to overtake him.  Even when there is nothing at stake and no match or competition has been agreed to, I always feel an almost primal thrill at catching a target or vanquishing a "foe" while running.  While I'm engaged in this task, all other thoughts and concerns are flooded out.  Pain is a secondary annoyance; large questions  that usually occupy the center of my consciousness are crowded out by the desperate need to catch up and pure pleasure of the chase.  

As we pass through the zoo, I'm only a few steps behind David. I begin to think, perversely, about how to pass him while making the greatest impact.  While ostensibly this is a friendly workout, I'm figuring out how I can use what energy I have left to pass by him in such a way that he won't even try to catch up.  This sort of tactic rarely works, but it's part of the psychological bag of tricks I've built up to push myself faster than I could normally carry myself.  It encourages me to go hard even though there's no obvious prey ahead to encourage me further.  

Just outside the zoo, I pass David.  I make an attempt to put some distance between us.  I pump my arms and swing my legs faster, trying to charge down the small hill just outside the zoo.  David is not impressed and manages to keep pace just enough to keep his shadow in my view.  From this point, the run becomes a cooperative venture, as we've recognized that we're each other's equal in skill on this day.  After things settle down we even manage a few words on "what exactly are those animals?" as we pass back through the zoo.  

Alas, as Updike said, "every true story has an anti-climax," and such was the case here.  At the end of the zoo, my shoelaces betrayed me, and I was forced to stop to tie them at which point David was able to build up enough of a lead to sustain him through the end of the run.  I did make a valiant last charge on the last mile, but a tired body moves violently when it's trying to catch up, and this violence undid my shoelaces a second time.  I resigned myself to my fate, and concentrated on keeping an even pace for the rest of the run, consoling myself with thoughts of a pumpkin muffin at the end.