Rants & Raves

RANT

BP sucks.

This week testimony began in the trial to determine whether BP was somewhat negligent or grossly negligent in the lead-up to the Deepwater Horizon oil spill that befouled the Gulf of Mexico and continues to affect the coastline.

There is no question as to whether or not BP is guilty - they already plead guilty to 14 counts of criminal misconduct. The question, now, is what restitution they will be required to pay to the affected communities

Early testimony is uncovering some pretty damning evidence that while BP had a safety plan, they did not actually implement the safety requirements at the Macondo well...

This story hits close to home because these are my beaches we're talking about.

How could anyone do anything to spoil these beaches?

And if you think the oil is gone, you're sadly mistaken. (Though BP's marketing campaign would have you believe otherwise...)

On Sunday, at the end of my 4 mile walk on the beach, I had a souvenir from my trek: a sticky clot of tar lodged itself on my foot. After 20 minutes of scrubbing, I finally removed most of the nasty goo, but no amount of scrubbing erases the disgust I feel about how often this happens.

Every time the surf is up - whether from a storm or just a swell - more tar is washed onto the beach. Clumps of tar, from tiny droplets, to manhole-cover-sized chunks, wash up and litter the shore. Workers pick them up, weaving between beach-goers as they do, but no matter how many workers go out with nets and trash bags, the tar balls keep coming.

Last year my nephew was diving for seashells, and pulled up a fist-sized tar ball. The "put that down, honey, it's toxic" conversation is not one I wanted to have with a 9-year-old. And I'm bloody tired of getting gooey feet...

Yes, folks, this saga is not yet over...


RAVE

As runners, we've all done our fair share of dodging cars.

Sadly, a few of my friends have not dodged quickly enough and have been struck by reckless drivers (when they shouldn't have to dodge in the first place). Some have walked away with minor scrapes and bruises, some with more serious injuries...

Image source

Given the danger of a person vs. vehicle crash (The vehicle always wins. Always.), wouldn't it be nice if we had a superhero to protect us from reckless or distracted drivers?

In Mexico City, which allegedly has the world's worst record for pedestrian safety (an average of one pedestrian death each day, according to The Atlantic Cities), one man has taken the issue of pedestrian safety into his own (superhero) hands.

Dressed as a luchador (a wrestler in the Mexican tradition of Lucha Libre), Jorge Cáñez and his superhero colleagues...

"get out into the street and physically block cars that are infringing on pedestrian space, paint crosswalks where they are lacking, give speeches about pedestrian rights, and clear sidewalks of obstructions so that people on foot can pass through. The reception, he says, is good -- because he always stays positive."

Bravo Jorge! (...or should I call you Peatónito?)

What are you ranting and raving about this week?

Caption this photo

Gulf Coast weather is downright gorgeous in the days leading up to a storm.

One of the things I've learned from two years of living here is that people take storms seriously and not seriously - all at the same time. Sometimes in the same sentence.

I'm not sure I can explain it well, but maybe this comparison will help: In my neighborhood about 10 percent of the homes are boarded up. Today that seems like overkill, but on Saturday it sounded like a good idea. My neighbors, on the other hand, hung delicate new wind chimes over the weekend. That just seems downright silly. If those chimes don't get blown away, we'll all wish they did after hour-upon-hour of clanging. *sigh*

The other thing I've learned is that no amount of t.v. watching or worrying is going change what's going to happen. Three days out the weather forecasters are saying a category 2 storm is headed right up your street. The day before landfall predictions are for a category 1 storm, 200 miles to your west.

So you might as well sit back, relax, and pour yourself a rum drink (after you check your supplies of batteries, food, and water, of course).

Caption?

Now... how would you caption this picture?

My favorite ideas so far are:

• Can you see the hurricane?
• I don't even like hurricanes!
• Have you heard the news? There's a hurricane on Pensacola Beach!

I suppose I shouldn't joke about these things. Even if Isaac isn't as strong as early projections predicted, any storm is serious. But it's better to laugh than to cry.

Stay safe Gulf Coast friends!

I'll be back to writing about running and fitness later this week...

Cheers!

A little R & R

The final results are posted for the trail 10k.

• My finish time: 1:00:10
• 6th female (out of 32) and 11th overall (out of 60)
• 2nd in women 30-39

There was some mention of "award winners" on the event website. My name shows up on that list, but Hubby and I left before the awards ceremony started, and my inquiry to the race organizer hasn't been answered yet.

Either way, after 2 races in 6 days, I'm taking a much-needed rest day.

My definition of rest looks like this:

North Bay trail at the Naval Live Oaks Area of Gulf Islands National Seashore

The weather today is truly gorgeous - one of those rare, perfect days in northwest Florida. It also happens to be National Park Week (read: free entry to all national parks until April 29). Plus, I'm still on a trail high from yesterday's race. So Hubby and I took a mid-morning hike through part of the Naval Live Oaks area at Gulf Islands National Seashore.

Our hike was leisurely and relaxing. Call that "active rest" if you must, but I couldn't let a perfect day go to waste by staying indoors. (There's plenty of time to be indoors Monday through Friday. Call that "work" if you must.)

My definition of rest also looks like this:

French wine selection at a local wine shop.

Once upon a time, I was a bit of an oenophile.

Oh, who am I kidding?

I still love wine.
I've just gotten out of the habit of going to tastings and frequenting wine bars.

After our leisurely hike, and a leisurely lunch, I took off to a wine store and spent an hour browsing the shelves for bottles I haven't tried before. The clerk poured me a taste of a tempranillo that he "just happened to have open."

Marketing works.
The wine was delicious.
Two bottles came home with me.
One might not last the night.

That's my idea of a restful day.

What's your perfect rest day?

Happy trails - literally

I am floating on a post-race endorphin cloud right now.
I was intensely anxious about this morning's trail race, but now - having finished successfully - my feeling of contentment is impossible to put into words.

Resting in the parking lot after the Blackwater Trail 10k

Why so worried?
I have run hundreds of miles of trails in my running life. Before moving to Florida, I used to lead a weekly 5-mile trail run in San Diego. But to say southern California trails are different from Florida Panhandle trails would be an... ahem... understatement.

Southern California trails are often (although not always) wide fire roads or bridle paths. Their difficulty lies primarily in the topography. Hills do not "roll" so much as they present walls that you must climb. The trails are tough. But the shrubbery only reaches waist-high, so while sun exposure is an issue on So Cal trail runs, generally you can see the path ahead.

Hiking the Three Sisters trail in San Diego:
There's no question which way the trail turns.

Florida trails are a completely different beast.

I have done some hiking and trail running since moving to Florida. But after only a year, I am not yet comfortable with these deep woods the way I was comfortable after a decade of running and hiking in San Diego's backcountry.

Still, I signed up for a trail 10k - the Blackwater Trail Race. (Six days after my most recent half marathon, too.)

Knowing my (local) inexperience, I had a restless night of sleep - scenes of trail wipeouts and snake bites dancing on the edges of my dreams. I had been on portions of the trail before, and I knew the markings, but a few steps down a false trail can get a person completely lost.

In this part of Florida, the forest continues, thickly wooded, for miles. (Cue "Deliverance" jokes.) To give you a sense of how thick the woods are here, for half of the race we were within a few dozen yards of the Blackwater River. I never saw the river.

Blackwater River State Park in a "clearing" near the finish line.

So, I worried.
I fretted.
I talked with Hubby about wanting to "run not race" this race.

I suggested, then dismissed, the idea of just sleeping in and skipping it.

We took the shuttle bus to the starting line.

During the pre-race talk, the gentleman who set our trail explained which markers to look for, assured us that the trail was well-marked, and warned us that most of the trail was windy, muddy, single-track that he (affectionately) referred to as a "rabbit trail." He also warned us about snakes. Oh, have I mentioned the poisonous, aggressive local wildlife?

This was not helping to calm any of my fears.

But, as soon as the deer-call sounded the start of our race, I learned a few things:

• I am incapable of "taking it easy" during a race. Call it ego. Call it a competitive streak. If I'm not having a major medical crisis, I can't "not race." I have suspected this before, but now I am certain.
• Despite all of my pre-race anxiety, once I'm on the trail, I am not nearly as timid as I worry I'll be. About a mile into the race, I took the lead for our pack, and held it until the finish. (Yes I did call back, out of courtesy, to see if anyone wanted to pass - the single-track was narrow. No one was interested.) I enjoyed being the one on lookout for the trail markers and calling back to the pack about patches of mud and other hazards.
• I might be a little lucky, too. About a dozen people got stung by bees, including poor Hubby. I breezed through the swarm - not even noticing until I heard a string of "ouch" shouts behind me.
• Hashing, oddly, is excellent training for trail running. A year of running by following hash clues (mostly chalk signs and dots of flour) has sharpened my skills at looking for trail markings.

Post-race happiness:
Maybe it was all of my pre-race nervousness wearing off, or maybe it was the thrill of crashing through the underbrush, sliding through muddy patches, and making it out alive, but I have never felt so giddy after a race.

I can see why trail racing is addictive.

Oh... And while I'm not sure of my exact finish time (60 minutes give or take 30 seconds), I do know that I came in 2nd out of women 30-39. (Maybe there were only 2 women age 30-39? Who knows. An AG place is an AG place. I'm thrilled!)

My detailed start/good/bad/finish race report will follow...

For now, I need a NAP!

What's your take on trail running - love it or hate it?
How do you deal with nervousness when you're taking on a new challenge?

Hello Pensacola

Hello Pensacola,

It is nice to see you again.

Thank you for welcoming me home with a weekend of summery, 80-degree days. I know you thought that I got soft after a week of San Diego's sunny, 60-degree, perfect weather, but it did hail on me there. That hail kept me on my toes weather-wise.

I also suspect that you thought 80-degree temperatures would keep me indoors. You know I don't like running in the heat. But on that count, you were mistaken. I took to the trails this morning and enjoyed every minute of my 10-mile run through Fort Pickens, even though there was no shade at all. (Yes, I am now showing signs of the first sunburn of the season... I never claimed to be a skin care role mode...)

Running over your soft sand trails will make my ankles and calves stronger. Powering through a shadeless run, with the sun beating down on me, is good mental preparation for next month's half marathon. The conditions then will be no cooler (or shadier) than they were today, so really, the weather was perfect for training.

And - dear Pensacola - you must, on some level, be glad to see me, too. Otherwise why would you have graced my run with blue skies and even bluer seas? You even had the hospitality to send some winged ambassadors my way. Great herons and ospreys greeted me at every turn. (The ospreys seemed to ignore me. They were intent on building their nests... and... ahem... filling those nests. But I enjoyed their company nonetheless.)

And the snapping turtle at the turn-around? She swam quietly under the bridge as I passed, and gave me a good excuse to pause and catch my breath.

I might not have wanted to move to Florida a year ago, but this morning's run felt pretty darned good. Thank you for welcoming me home.

Sincerely,
Beth (i run like a girl)

What running tales do you have to share this weekend?
And... sunblock or no sunblock? Am I the only (crazy) person who prefers to run early morning or late evening rather than slather on the spf?

Fat Tuesday!

Today is Fat Tuesday.

Peanut scored some beads!

While New Orleans gets all the media attention for its Mardi Gras madness, the entire Gulf Coast goes crazy for this holiday. In fact Mobile, AL is credited with the first Mardi Gras celebration in 1703 (or 1699 - depends on who you ask).

Mardi Gras revelry was suspended during the Civil War, but was revived (again) in Mobile in 1866. Legend has it that that one man, Joe Cain, rode through the streets on a coal cart, dressed in Chickasaw Indian regalia.

Obviously, Joe was also drunk as a skunk (which explains a lot about Mardi Gras parades...)

When Joe passed on, his second funeral procession (it's a long story) was the precursor to the big Sunday parades. Now the Sunday before Mardi Gras is now known in Mobile as "Joe Cain Day," with celebrations rivaling Fat Tuesday.

To an outsider, it seems like the party just keeps adding days (but I'm not complaining)! So here's the schedule as I understand it:

Mardi Gras costumes from the Krewe of Bowlegs
exhibit in Fort Walton Beach, FL

• January 6th, Epiphany kicks off the season. Krewes put the finishing touches on their floats. Carnival celebrations and masquerade balls fill up the social calendar.
• Saturday before Fat Tuesday - parades and partying begin in earnest (but I have yet to hear a name for this holiday?)
• Sunday before Fat Tuesday - Joe Cain Day (at least in Mobile, AL)
• Monday before Fat Tuesday - Lundi Gras (You thought I made that one up, didn't you!)
• 40 days before Easter - Fat Tuesday / Mardi Gras
• ...followed by Ash Wednesday (also known as "hangover recovery day")

Pensacola's Mardi Gras parades are more "family friendly" than those in the Big Easy. You won't catch people flashing their chests for beads. (Apologies to anyone who was hoping for scandalous photos...)

Krewes here throw beads, candy, moon pies, and other goodies to everyone in the crowd. (A krewe, prounounced "crew," is a social club organized around creating floats for the carnival season.)

Showing off our collection of beads from Saturday's parade...

I'm not going to sugar coat it: Even Pensacola's PG-13 Mardi Gras is still a 4-day drunkfest. But it's all in good fun. There's time for being an adult the other 362 days of this year.

(Speaking of being an adult... Ok... I'll run twice today, but only until I can get my hands on some king cake!)

King cake is a holiday staple - but watch out. There's a "baby king" hidden inside.
If you get the baby in your slice #1 - be careful that you don't chip a tooth, and
#2 - you're on the hook for bringing next year's cake.

Happy Fat Tuesday!

Laissez les bon temps rouler!

Have you ever celebrated Mardi Gras?
Right now my dining room looks like a bead factory had an accident... Maybe one of these days I'll figure out how to work those into a giveaway?

Pensacola is a runner-friendly city

***First things first: Don't forget to enter this week's blogiversary giveaway. For details see giveaway post.***

I just found out that the Road Runner's Club of America designated Pensacola as a "Runner Friendly City." I think the ranking is correct, but I'm not sure I agree about the reasons why. Here's what RRCA has to say about my current running residence:

Pensacola, FL – The Pensacola Runners Association call Pensacola home.  They have an established route known locally as “The Airport Loop”.  Starting at The Roger Scott Park, the loop winds around The Pensacola Regional Airport and contains plenty of parking, restrooms, water fountains, and even a dog park.  There’s also a community track that is open to the public, well-lit, and properly maintained.

The PRA actively engages the community by approaching area businesses one-on-one to discuss their support as a sponsor for one of the PRA’s 10 events. Businesses typically donate their time by asking employees to volunteer and their money to help cover expenses that normally wouldn’t have been possible.

If you’re ever in the area, McGuires Irish Pub offers a Tuesday night 5K run in which it offers a buffet and beverage discounts.  Every March, they produce the St. Patrick’s Day Prediction, billed as the “world’s largest” prediction run where over 10,000 participants enjoy a 5K Run/Walk.

There are gender-neutral, youth running programs that are hosted in the community.  Local schools have a track/cross country team and the PRA hosts a club for the local youth.

Pensacola has a special events coordinator that assists organizations or individuals interested in producing running events. The City also provides a traffic officer to review the route and assign officers to assist in traffic control.  The city hosts over 30 running events annually.

Community leaders who provided support and letters of recommendation include Jehan Clark, President of the Pensacola Runners Association; Jeff Schmitt, Associate Director of Recreation and Athletic Facilities; Kimberly Kaminski, Special Events Coordinator of Pensacola; and Ashton Hayward, Mayor of Pensacola.

My analysis of their writeup:

• Ok. The Airport Loop exists, but it's boring. Whatever. And what runner in their right mind would run through a dog park??? I don't know about you, but I try to avoid dogs while running.
• The PRA does excellent work. No dispute there.
• McGuire's run club is fantastic. I think I've mentioned that before. Maybe more than once.
• I have no kids. I have no idea. I assume this is true.
• 30 running events and a coordinator for races? That is pretty awesome. I learned something from the article!
• Who cares? Maybe I'm jaded after a decade of working in the public sector, but mayors sign all sorts of letters without really caring about the issue. If it's good PR, they'll sign. BIG DEAL.

The more important bone I have to pick with the RRCA writeup:

• They missed Running Wild, and all the work that store does to support the local running community. (Seriously, I've lived other places. I've never seen anything like this... Running Wild hosts several group runs each week, sponsors run clubs, organizes transportation to and from races, organizes volunteers at races, encourages runners to use their store for restroom breaks on their long runs... If that's not love, I don't know what is!)
• They missed the Hash House Harriers clubs that call Pensacola home.
• They missed all the other pub-sponsored group runs... The Seville Quarter Milers, the Helen Back Pensacola Run Club, and half a dozen others that I'm missing (see list here).

So, overall, I'm glad to see Pensacola on this list. It's just obvious that the list was written by someone who's never run here!

Would you rank your city a "runner friendly city?"
Why? (Or why not?)

Hiking - or "how I spent my Saturday"

Let's be honest, Northwest Florida is not known for its hiking.
What with the poisonous snakes, feral hogs, and 'gators (and not just the University of Florida kind), it's little wonder that most people who go into the woods here go with guns.

But I'm a hiking girl. I love to walk through the woods. So I keep trying to find new trails.

Today Hubby and I found a good one. We hiked the Sweetwater Trail (1.5 miles) from Krul Lake to Bear Lake, then did a 4 mile loop around Bear Lake, and back again. (See trail map.)

Krul Lake

I found the lake and trails when I volunteered at the Blackwater Trail Half Marathon. Today Hubby and I started off at Krul lake on an elevated wooden path. (Did they build the boardwalk to avoid alligators, I wonder?)

Boardwalk and bridge near Krul Lake

The boardwalk only lasted about a mile, then we were back on more traditional hiking trails. At 1.5 miles the Sweetwater Trail ends at the Bear Lake Loop trail. While the western side of the lake showed signs of fire damage (whether wildfire or controlled burn, I do not know), the eastern side was lush and green.

View from a cove on the east side of Bear Lake

Unfortunately, at this point the temperature started dropping and clouds started moving in. Rather than mosey back to the car (and take lots more photos), we picked up the pace. Our decision was a wise one, and our timing was perfect. The first raindrops hit the trunk of the car right after we put the camera in...

But before we left, I snapped one last photo...

Tree trunks that look like elephant feet.

And now we're home.

Safely.

No 'gator attacks!

Now I'm off to shower, change into a fluffy bathrobe, make a plate of nachos, and watch football with Hubby.

How did you spend your Saturday?
Are you a hiker? If so, what is your favorite hiking trail?

Sea turtle Sunday

Yesterday morning hubby and I woke at the butt-crack of dawn because we couldn't stand one more half marathon training run on the dreadmill. At 6am it was blissfully cool outside: 72 degrees and lower-than-normal humidity. (Of course it was. It was still DARK.) The run felt almost... good. Not fast, yet. But not turtle slow, either. And it felt so good to be outside.

We logged our miles, and then decided to treat ourselves to a mostly lazy day followed by an evening stroll on the beach. So we strolled, sugary cocktails in hand. Hydration is imperative after a long run! (Side note: One thing to love about the Gulf Coast is the cocktail culture. No beach booze ban here! But I digress...)

The point is that we had a glorious Sunday that felt like a vacation day. (Yes. We do wake up insanely early to run while on vacation. There are worse habits to have.)

During our vacation-like stroll, we came across this sign:

I took a picture to make sure I wasn't having post-run or post-margarita halucinations. The sign does indeed show that the area is roped off to protect a sea turtle nest.

Cool!

I have yet to see a sea turtle in the wild, but I am pleased to have them as neighbors. They are definitely more cuddly than their reptile cousins: the alligators. I could do without the alligators. (Mostly I fear that I cannot outrun a hungry alligator. Hopefully I'll never find out.)

So Florida scores a win for beach cocktails. And another win for sea turtles. Not so much for the gators.

Proper or prudish?

Black plastic wrappers around magazines like Playboy would seem extreme in Europe, but are common in the States. I suppose I understand the practice. I really don't need or want to see boobs when I'm buying a pack of bubble gum.

But my grocery store seems to have taken this practice to a whole new level.

Really, Publix? Really?

I lifted the modesty panels, just to see what could possibly be so shocking that it needed a cover. (Curiosity is either my strong point or my weakness. You decide.)

Here's what I found:

Apparently the September cover of Oxygen is inappropriate for the grocery store checkout line.

I'm so confused! Remember, this is the Florida panhandle. Standard summer attire for men is shorts. Only. From the backyard to the bayou and certainly out in public there are nearly-naked men everywhere here in the summer. Summer attire for women is a bit more modest. But while exercising outdoors the uniform for Florida ladies is shorts + sports bra. How else can a girl run in this heat?

So I can see my neighbors running around in various states of undress, but I can't see a photo of the same attire on the cover of a magazine?

And, more importantly, Florida's panhandle is in the nation's obesity alley. In nearby Alabama and Mississippi one third of adults are obese. Perhaps we should put modesty panels over the chocolate bars at the checkout line, not the fitness magazines.

Am I wrong to be shocked?

Is this proper? Or prudish?

On this day: Anniversary of a major life change. Or the road less traveled.

One year ago today I boarded a plane in San Diego, flew to Seattle, hopped in a car, and began the cross-country road trip that was the first step in a very scary bold move from the West Coast to the Gulf Coast.

Hubby (then: fee-ahn-sey') had just wrapped up graduate school in Seattle, and we were about to spend a week driving, running, and eating our way across the vast United States from the top left corner of the map to the bottom right en route to our new home.

We plotted our trip to get as much sight-seeing and family-visiting in as we could. At the end of the trip, I'd have enough time for a one-day glimpse of the place I'd spend the next 2 or 3 years. Then I'd return to San Diego for a couple of months to tie up loose ends. I'd repeat the cross-country trek again in November, and by December I'd turn in my old apartment keys and have a Florida driver's license.

What was I thinking?!? I was about to spend 10 days in a car with only one other person. Cross country road trips have been known to kill even the strongest relationships. And then I was going to uproot my very comfortable (if a bit predictable) life to move to a place I had never seen before.
Cue panic attack!

Over 10 days we covered 2,900 miles on four wheels and about 20 miles on our two feet. We ran almost every morning before hitting the road. We ran in Missoula, MT, Yellowstone National Park, Fort Collins, CO, Fort Worth, TX, and eventually at our new home in Pensacola, FL.

The running helped to stave off the inevitable butt-numbness that comes with long-haul road trips. It also gave us a chance to really see some of the places we might have missed if we had only been looking out a car window. We dove in beyond the parking lots in Yellowstone and saw amazing geothermal pyrotechnics - not to mention bison and bears. We startled a deer eating her breakfast in Colorado. We got rained on in Pensacola. (Note to my future self: This will happen. Often.)

After each morning's run, we'd shower, change, and hit the road. We counted state license plates. (Never did see Hawaii.) We counted antelope. (My revelation of the trip: Antelope really do roam in Wyoming!) We counted miles. (Miles traveled. Miles run. Miles left to go.)

This photo from Missoula sums up how I felt about the whole trip: My back turned on the familiar. Running headlong down a trail I've never been on. Having no idea where I'm going. Loving the rush of a new adventure. Being just a little bit totally terrified that I have no idea what I'm doing here.

But life, like running, is measured in the miles we travel. Not the ones we don't.

Cold front!

Oh boy! Oh boy! Oh boy!
Last night the weatherman said the magic words: Cold front!

Break out the Gortex and ice skates! A cold front is coming!

But let's be serious.

This is August. In Florida.

By "cold front" the delusional weatherman meant "still bathwater warm, but not scalding tomorrow."

Whatever! I'll take what I can get. Temperatures are in the low 70s. I was, frighteningly, ecstatic when the temperature was only 81 on a recent run. (Yes. I realize that this is a symptom of the Gulf Coast version of Stockholm Syndrome.)

Temperatures in the 70s are like a gift from the heavens (literally).

After weeks of 100+ Heat Index temperatures it felt positively brisk outside today. The morning weather lady said it was 70 degrees at 7am. My run felt fantastic, and I kept up a pace almost 90 seconds/mile faster than what I've been running in the warmer weather. (Hooray! My legs still work!)

In fact, it was so nice to be outside, if I hadn't had to go to work, I would have kept right on going...

Do you change your workouts to take advantage of great weather? Or do you always stick to the schedule?

Photo (of ice-skater) courtesy of Nationaal Archief and photo (of bayou skater) courtesy of your truly.

Stockholm Syndrome

It's official. I've lived on the Gulf Coast for too long. A few of days of rain dropped the temperatures down to a reasonable 81 degrees, and 78 percent humidity.

Yes, I said "reasonable" in the same sentence as 81 degrees and 78 percent humidity.

Break out the white jacket and restraints. Clearly I've lost my mind. The first sign of Swampholm-Stockholm Syndrome is thinking 81 and humid is "reasonable" weather.

Nevertheless, crazy or not, I used the lovely "break from the heat" as an excuse to squeeze a run into my work schedule yesterday. I couldn't risk waiting until after work to lace up my running shoes, because the evening forecast predicted severe thunderstorms - and even crazy people have their limits.

So I took a late afternoon "smoke break" and went out for a 30 minute run. (Hey, if the smokers can take 15 minutes off two or three times a day, I see no reason why I can't run in between meetings. Smoking or running, we come back to the office smelling gross. But at least running doesn't increase group insurance premiums!)

After the run, I plopped right back down in my office chair (which I covered with a towel, for the chair's protection -- I was still soaked through with sweat) to work late and wrap up a project that's due.

So, the moral of this story is: I'm not sure what the most shocking symptom of craziness is:

1. being psyched about sneaking in a sweaty run,
   
2. covering my chair with a towel so I can get back to work post-haste, or
   
3. admitting to the blogosphere that I did 1, and 2 above.
   

What's the craziest thing you've ever done to make sure you get to run?