Well, That Went Well

So, scratch the Nanowrimo (again) this year.  I lost my focus rather quickly.  Interesting enough idea, but…meh.  Re-reading Harry Potter seemed far more pressing.  And reading this fanfic gem community, which I share only because I love you.  Be warned, however, ’tis not for the faint of heart.  Or humor, for that matter.

Did begin training for the Georgia Marathon, and I am pleased with the progress in week one (read: off couch and onto the treadmill).  Normally, I eschew the treadmill thing–it feels dreadfully boring, but in light of my recent dog trauma, I’m not totally comfortable with running in the neighborhood at 5am right now.

I did do one neighborhood run this week.  And, was accosted by a dog.  Now, the Min Pin in question, spiked collar or no, offered little in the way of actual threat (unlike the Dog of the Month in October), but I was disheartened by how much it threw me to be approached and threatened (in all its Napoleon Complex bravado) by an unfamiliar dog.  The meeting didn’t last particularly long, and no skin was lost by canine or human, but two pieces of the incident really bugged the crap out of me: my reaction (fear) and the fact that the dog was loose to begin with.   Being loose–from either a fenced area or a leash– presents a danger to the dog, which drivers would have a hell of a time seeing (and we’ve a large number of folks who leave for work between 5 & 6 around here), and the hapless runners and walkers who have the temerity to pass by.

Speaking of which:  Would the dog owners who have their electric fence sans signage along the roadway please take a moment to consider that while Fluffy is a dear to you, the apparently unbound truck-sized tooth machine charging the runner is, well, not especially dear and/or friendly looking.  Try it sometime.

Anyhoo, to deal with the treadmill crazies, I put together a playlist of several of my current musical earworms.  I hit shuffle and let the boys and girls (L7 does make a notable appearance) distract me from my efforts.  Much more so than the omnipresent Faux News in the gym.

So, scorecard:  one failed novel, one re-read novel (yay!), and one week into the 20 weeks of training.


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