Halloween night, Carlie is going to be at a birthday sleepover party and trick or treating with her girlfriends, so I am going to go to the Blazer's game with Tim. I am debating wearing my Hannah Momtana costume. I think a 42-year-old Hannah would definitely get some Jumbotron time, but then I might end up getting discovered, like Pam Anderson at a hockey game. Which could be more of a hassle than it's worth. Still weighing all the possibilities.
I went on a 4.5 mile run today. It was quite uneventful. Nothing hurt, nothing throbbed. No near death experiences except for the ones that I fabricate in my head.
For instance, I was running through a very quiet neighborhood, nobody is out and about and streets are empty. Out of nowhere, a group of 6 - 8 Hells Angels comes tearing through a few blocks away. As they cross my path, I immediately assume they will be circling the block, coming up behind me and I will be kidnapped and hauled off on a Harley to become some biker dude's bitch.
The moment passed, I remained safe. A few minutes later, I hear the roar of the Hells Angels again, and OMG this time they are coming RIGHT AT ME! I played it cool, kept up my snails-pace jog, but was scoping out places to hide, alleys to dart down. I've got my escape route mapped out, the Hells Angels are bearing down on me, and just as I am about to dive behind some garbage cans I look up and see that the Hells Angels are actually 50+ year old men and women riding BMWs and Ducatis, not Harleys, and half of them are women. Probably not all that interested in making me their bitch after all.
Wow, that was a close one. I should probably start running with pepper spray.
So now I am camped out on my bed, with my laptop, just out of a long soak in a hot bath, watching "Bobby" and contemplating paying one of the children to walk to the store and buy me Cheetos. Because Cheetos sound really good right now. And I hear that's how all the marathoners roll, with the Cheetos and such.