Low give-a-shite factor today in all things. Besides all that, my hair is the shortest it has been since the barber at Ranger Joes at Fort Benning pulled out a razor and whistled as he spun me around with my head in my hands. But this time it ain't growing back. The stress of gulag achipelagoes, stalled turnpikes, insufficient money, and 8 voluntary, spontaneous marathons have acted as the evil agents of folicle deforestation. Just like trees cleared from the Amazon, the thinning hair is not producing enough oxygen for my proverbial planet and is causing increasing amounts of pedantic, elitist, smug CO2 comments on this backside of cyber toiletpaper. ---------------- 6 miles on the work treadmill. 7:45-8:00 pace until the last 800. The first 400 at 9 mph, and the last at goal MP. 3c (200 ab bar, 100 alternating). The ab bar was placed incorrectly on my head backwards for the first ten and I pushed the bar with the elbow pads upturned looking like a man in a rubber room. I'm pretty tired in the legs today and felt my little atmospheric test flight last night.