11 miles after work at 7:15 pace--easy--out here thanks to some local knowledge from a reliable source who I am now thanking. I ran in the middle of a thunderstorm and half-wanted to get hit by lightning, but then lightning started to strike close and the thunder boomed right behind it and so I wanted it to go somewhere else. -------------------------------- Ode to some of you--more of you than you may realize, sadly. :-( With special thanks to Morrissey. Further into the fog I fall well, I was just following you! when you said:"Do as I do and scrap your fey ways"(dial-a-cliche)" grow up, be a man, and close your mealy-mouth!"(dial-a-cliche) But the person underneath where does he go? does he slide by the wayside? or...does he just die? when you find that you've organized your feelings, for people who didn't like you then and do not like you now yet still you say:"Do as I do and scrap your fey ways"(dial-a-cliche)" grow up, be a man, and close your mealy-mouth!"(dial-a-cliche)" the Safe way is the only way! there's always time to change, son!"yes well I've changed but I'm in pain! dial-a-cliche ---------------------------------------- Parting comments about censorship as it relates to blogging. I've always considered people's blogs to be a dining room conversation of some sorts. I've tried to respect people's space and my comments left at their tables never cross lines of decency. I rarely use swearwords on others' space and my comments, though controversial or brutally candid, never revert to obscenity or off-topic ramblings about sexual innuendo or toilet bowl contents. I even avoid politics and religion comments on others' space, because sometimes being a good guest means keeping your damn mouth shut. As such, this space is my space. It's my table. So when I'm off talking about running along the C&O Towpath and someone walks into my house and interrupts our conversation, yelling at the top of their lungs about the excrement of someone else, I kick their ass out of my house. Sure, I can let people look like asses, and let their comments stand for themselves, but not today. The funny thing about all this is that most of you didn't catch the part that I already correlated who the baboon was that left the comments. I'd like to now close with comments about this blog in general. Terms like 'controversial',' inflammatory', and 'rage' are being tossed around about me and my writings. I won't debate them. Heck, with Mondo Kilgore and Kevin Beck now silent, perhaps I now have a corner market on acerbic running blogs. I'll just leave it as such: like porn, some of those that condemn these types of sites, are the very ones caught with the browser cookie looking at them. Peace out.