Happy first day of Spring.
Unless, of course, you are an (ah-choo!) allergy sufferer. Snurk.
The first flower I took note of this morning was a wad of Kleenex in my hand. Then I saw the other.
I’ll spare you the first.
Honnnnnnnnk. Snorf. Fwah.
Our St. Paddy’s snow lasted about as long as bipartisanship in Congress.
Herself went out for a short run yesterday afternoon and reported that the trails were barely tacky. And this morning is as you see.
When the weather gets goofy like this I miss running. It’s such a convenient workout when God is pitching changeups at you. Efficient. Minimal gear. No coasting.
A 45-minute trail run isn’t long enough to be boring, and it doesn’t gnaw off a sizable chunk of your day the way cycling does. You can get started early, and finish early, too. Nobody honks at you, unless you’re running past a goose with attitude.
Running and swimming are probably our purest forms of exercise, although an indoor pool is an expensive accessory. You can always acquire property on some placid sandy beach in a tropical paradise, but that’s even pricier than a Y membership.
And the ocean likes to go for a run every now and then too. Sometimes it takes you with it.
Oh, Lord, I can feel myself getting talked into it. Running, not swimming; we got sand, but this ain’t no tropical paradise. My feets have already failed me once. Spring can’t come soon enough.
It being a fine soft day out of doors, Miss Mia O’Sopaipilla just celebrated St. Patrick’s Day with an extended rúla búla up to 90 around the shebeen so. Now she wants a fry.
It being St. Paddy’s Day, we probably should have a spot of music — in this case, a Dublin concert marking the 40th anniversary of the fabled 1977 album by Andy Irvine and Paul Brady, who had both been members of the legendary Irish group Planxty. Joining them in this concert (and on the album) were Dónal Lunny, another Planxty vet, and Kevin Burke.
I saw Irvine and Brady perform at a small venue in Corvallis, Oregon, when I worked for the newspaper there. It goes without saying that I have that album (both vinyl and digital) as well as Planxty out the wazoo. The neighbors are getting an earful as we speak.
This is why I always shunned the casinos while in Sin City for Interbike.
I gambled on a nice long hike yesterday, betting that today would be better for the old bikey ridey.
Wrong.
Yesterday was most enjoyable, two hours of up and down and all around, with a bit of light jogging thrown in here and there as the spirit moved. Rolled up the sleeves. Probably could’ve worn shorts.
Today I gnawed on a chilly wind from behind a handlebar for an hour and the nicest thing I can say about that is that I was not indoors. Long sleeves. The knickers and fingerless gloves proved unwise. Airborne allergens caressed my nostrils the way a peeler does a potato.
And now the weatherperson says snow is on the way? Snow? Who dealt this mess?
Miss Mia Sopaipilla finds our temporal shenanigans irksome.
“Go away at once. That you find it necessary to fiddle with your timepieces is of no concern to me. I will let you know in no uncertain terms when your services are required.”
Mad Blog Media 