I have rebounded back into a relationship with Running.

It was too hard to stay away, what with the sun shining, the warm air smelling of yummy BBQ, and the trees heavy with fat green leaves. That and the funk I've been in was becoming a huge drag and getting my run on seems to have provided some much needed medicine. Because being outside in this weather is good for my soul; I can feel it from my tippie toes to my fringe. So we're both trying this time around: I have promised to give Running more attention, and Running has promised to stop being such a d*ck. It's a work in progress, clearly.

But the truth is I get itchy to strap on my sneaks when the sunshine bursts back on the scene. Amazingly, most other things take a back seat: TV, gossip blogs, gardening, eating... Truly, I think of nothing else when I'm in the mood to run. I liken it to a crack addict looking for her next score, only I'm not a crack addict and I likely won't have to pimp my goodies to pay for my habit. Speaking of which...

In an effort to hold up my end of the bargain I treated myself to a new pair of kicks. They're super pink, trust me I know. But for the record, I always by the same shoe so don't really have much choice in the colour. I would say if more people bought runners based on fit and feel than colour, style, or label, we'd all be much faster and have happier feet. But spending $170 on a single pair of shoes gives me the sweats (see HERE). This time around, however, while driving away from the store I managed to amortizing the cost in my head. This is how my elementary math skills justify the expense:

S = 1 pair of swish new kicks
K = supa' fast kilometers logged
D = days per week
W = weeks per year

S

                      _______________________ = $0.18 per K

(6K x 3D [per W]) x 52W

And this doesn't factor in my races. Speaking of which, Orange and his brother and I have registered ourselves for THIS. The video is a bit melodramatic, I know, but I'm pretty stoked. I have no idea what I've gotten myself into mind you, with the exception of the stories Cousin Toque has regaled on me from a similar race in the Capital. But I figure if I can survive being beaten by a unicyclist in the Paris to Ancaster bike race, I'm sure I can survive this (yes, yes, I know, I cried the entire last 5km of that bloody race, but I blame the volunteers... They kept telling me I was "near the end" when I so wasn't...  stupid 10 year-olds and their damned enthusiasm...)

Hamburgler

Lil C is a worrier. He comes by it naturally, though, what with the long line of worried people in our family (Pop, me, Beef... we all worry...) Why am I telling you this? Because it's pertinent information for the following hilaripuss story:

Last night the Beefs treated themselves to dinner out--the coziness of a McDonald's booth in celebration of McHappy Day. Happy Meals, play place, ice cream cones... All good, right? Not so much. Because it was McHappy Day, McDonald's brought out all the stops including a special visit from the McDonald's characters, i.e. Birdie, Grimace, Ronald, and the dreaded Hamburgler.

"Who's that?" asks Lil C.
"That's the Hamburgler," replies Mr. Beef. "He steals your hamburgers."

You don't tell a worried kid that the man with the uncomfortably oversized head and bandit mask is going to steal your meal.

I'm told Lil C spent the entire dinner with is left hand covering his nuggets (the fact the guy's name is "Hamburgler" and C was eating "nuggets" is a mute point) looking precariously over his shoulder for the dreaded thief, slipping his hand quietly underneath to grab a quick bite before returning to his watchful guard.

I can just imagine what will transpire when we get to the Tooth Fairy... "Oh yeah, she's the chick that sneaks into your room at night while you're sleeping and STEALS YOUR TEETH!"