OK, so women have long boggled my mind (yes, I realize I am one). In a public bathroom, if you have to pass gas, fart, lay a deuce, or what have you, and there is someone else in there, inevitably they forget where they are, and go, "Ew gross!" Um, excuse me, but where would you like me to do these bodily functions...on your office chair?
So what happens when you catch one of these clueless nits passing gas, farting, and/or laying a deuce. You have never caught them going into a stall, but you have just listened to all the pleasantries their ass had to offer. They can't own up. They can't pull up their pants, flush, and go wash their hands. Rather, they just sit there and wait for you to pull up your pants, flush and wash your hands. Or they run out without washing their hands (but pulling up their pants first...flushing seems to be optional).
One of the many things I don't get about women...
OK, so back to running. 4.5 miles were on tap yesterday. I decided I would go out and back on the Alpharetta Greenway. It was only 92 degrees with a Code Orange Smog Alert. Meaning don't go outside if you aren't healthy. I'm healthy so I laugh at your Code Orange! Got to the Greenway and drank some water, and a swig of Gatorade. Left them in the car. Started warming up for .25 miles. Started running. La de da di da. Got up to the YMCA. Doh! They have no water fountain. Still I'm at 1.89 miles, no biggie. Usually I turn around right here, but I'll go up to 2.25 and turn around. Running. Get to Webb Bridge RD. Was in a good mood, so I never looked at my watch. I was at 2.7 miles. Oops! Turned around. Got to 3 miles and started feeling a little off. My shoulders hurt. Just keep at it, was what I told myself.
3.75 miles means I have .7 miles to go, no .8 no .75. Finally 4 miles. Only .4 to go, no .5. I'm going to run to the tree. Why am I constantly counting to 10? 4.49. I'll run to that leaf. Finally 4.5. Oh there is the mile marker. It must be MM3.5. Oh fuck! It is MM4.0. I have to walk another .75 (at least) miles to the car.
So my friend texted me he was in Dogfish Head Heaven and what kind should he have. I said 120 minutes, but he is not a hop head. After about 4 texts, I looked. I had walked .75 miles. WTF is the mile marker. Finally I see it. I know I have .25 miles back to the car. By this point, friend keeps sending me "HAHA! You're a moron!" texts. I thought I was doing pretty good texting while disoriented and walking.
I get back to the car (1.14 miles) and toss back the water. The gatorade...I'm shocked it wasn't boiling, it was so hot. So I drove to BP and busted opened a bottle while Ahmed (really his name) told me I wasn't allowed to do that until I paid. Oh well. I paid, and went home. On the way home, noticed my hand hurt but really didn't pay attention. Got home and took a shower. Looked at my hand.
Now I'm wondering who the hell hurts their hand running. Look at this. Perhaps I really am a moron. But I know I'm not the woman in the bathroom lacking self-esteem.