Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know that those of you who know me in real life will find that absolutely impossible to believe.
But it's true.
I'm completely inundated at work; truly one of those hellish periods that luckily only come around, oh, once a semester. I'm having enough trouble keeping on top of my work and running. I absolutely can't come up with anything interesting to say about running for the time being.
Let me put it this way: my last issue of Running Times has been sitting, untouched and unread, in a stack of magazines and unimportant junk mail for more than two weeks. And you know how much I love me some Running Times.
Point being: I'll be back in a few days when I have something to say again.
But until then, you'll have to keep waiting.
On I went, out of the wood, passing the man leading without knowing I was going to do so. Flip-flap, flip-flap, jog-trot, jog-trot, curnchslap-crunchslap, across the middle of a broad field again, rhythmically running in my greyhound effortless fashion, knowing I had won the race though it wasn't half over, won it if I wanted it, could go on for ten or fifteen or twenty miles if I had to and drop dead at the finish of it, which would be the same, in the end, as living an honest life like the governor wanted me to. -Alan Sillitoe, "Loneliness of the Long Distance Runner"