Due to popular demand, the Granny Shuffle has been reintroduced to Portland. The six-week hiatus ended this afternoon when I booted my lazy butt out the door and enjoyed a two and a half mile run. The prospect of using my new ipod shuffle for the first time accounted for 90 percent of my motivation and sunshine was the other 10. Few things thrill me in life as much as picking workout music. My musical concoctions are usually a witches brew of random artists and strange combinations. Rick Springfield, Journey, and the Yeah, Yeah, Yeahs go together like rama lama lama ke ding a de dinga a dong.
There’s a four mile race coming up in July that I’m still dreaming about. Of course the word “race” is merely titular when I speak of it. Nobody bothers competing with the granny shuffle. After today’s run, I feel like I could handle four miles. It will take some training, an excellent running mix, and a new pair of pants. My current running pants–which I already took the time to hem into capris–are now too big in the waist. I will not complain about this fact as I am always pleased when my pants gain weight. But running becomes very distracting when my ass is literally crawling out of my pants. Nobody wants to see that–not even the creepy homeless guys who tent out around 18th and Upshure.
Since I’m categorizing this as a “confessional” post, I had better come out with it. Another office brought two boxes of VooDoo doughnuts today and I did not even pretend to resist them. They seduced me like a suave cowboy on prom night. I’m not going to feign contrition because I’ll never say no to those goofy cereal-covered pastries. There you have it. Enjoy.
Before I sign off, I’d like to say a few thank yous.
1. Portland Smokers: Thank you for aggravating my asthma while I’m outside trying to exercise. Joggers everywhere praise your contribution. By the way, the hipster thing is over. Ditch the smokes, comb your hair, and get a job that doesn’t involve coffee or records.
2. Faulty clip on my pedometer: Humility is an important quality to learn, and I’m glad you’ve taken it upon yourself to teach it to me by giving out constantly while I’m trying to run. I don’t mind stopping my run so I can fish you out from under a stranger’s car. (To be fair, if I were my pedometer, taking a very bouncy ride on my hip, I’d probably bail too.)
3. Lastly, and most importantly, I’d like to thank Billy Idol for the song Rebel Yell.