TV Booty Call

ORN: 3.43 miles in 40:03. Today was a balmy 54°, cloudy and threatening more rain. I ran slowly today. I felt tired. I've been tired all day, perhaps because I took some Excedrin PM last night for a raging headache or perhaps because I am getting sick again. I have a touch of a sore throat. My workout today was unremarkable other than to say that I did it despite feeling as rotten as I do. Because I am crazy and unpredictable, I ran east instead of west on the RiverWalk today and spied a flotilla of ducks and a gaggle of geese.

In addition to being a track legend, globe-trotting playboy, and blogosphere superstar, I am also a casual television watcher. I am not nearly as passionate about it as some, but there are some things I really enjoy watching. Television for me is like that old girlfriend/boyfriend that one never thinks about until one's loins start getting twitchy. Then, it is booty call time. Most of the time, I am ambivalent about TV, but then I will go through a period of obsessively watching one or two shows. And ultimately, I am left feeling cheated, disappointed, and a little guilty.

I am starting to get into "Doctor Who." I have an on-again, off-again, love affair with "Battlestar Galactica." But there is only one show that over which I totally geek out, and that is "Lost." "Lost" punches all other shows squarely in the junk and leaves them in a whimpering pile for the polar bears to eat. For me, television just doesn't get any better than the very first episode where the plane breaks apart and falls to earth, and then everybody is on the beach, trying to recover amidst the burning wreckage, and then BOOM! Unseen monster in the woods comes tearing after them. I've been hooked ever since. So apart from my running, I've been focusing a lot of my attention on re-affirming my love affair with the boob tube.

Speaking of TV, did you catch the Super Bowl last night? That one team that was supposed to win sure as hell didn't. My Yoda-like sports wisdom tells me that the Patriots' game fell apart on two key fronts: 1) offensively, they did not score more points than the Giants and 2) defensively, they did not prevent the Giants from scoring more points than them. You can dump ESPN. I will be your sports authority from now on.

When the Viking family has not been gathered around the TV, we've been shopping around for a camping trailer. We go back and forth about whether to start out with a pop-up or splurge on a full-on trailer. This weekend, the fairgrounds had a boat and RV show. We went and geeked out on all our options, dreaming of the day we could retire, sell the house, buy a monstrous Class A, tour the hemisphere, and devour the last drops of petroleum on the planet, as is our right as Americans. We also went car shopping, which I enjoy about as much as a long, slow cavity search. We need to find something to tow the big box we will be camping in, and so we have had to learn more about towing capacities, hitches, and tongue weights than we ever imagined.

What does this have to do with my running? Nothing. Complain in the comments, Professor Whiny-pants. Here is today's playlist:

1. Born as Ghosts - Rage Against the Machine
2. Have Not Been the Same - Slow
3. Very Ape - Nirvana
4. Simple Song - Bim Skala Bim
5. Little Ghost - The White Stripes
6. I've Got a Match - They Might Be Giants
7. Frances Farmer Will Have Her Revenge on Seattle - Nirvana
8. There She Goes - Bob Marley
9. Booty Body Ready for the Plush Funk - George Clinton
10. Poison-Safe - Controller.Controller
11. Situation - Crimpshrine
12. Left Right - The Chemical Brothers