I went for a run. Whoopdeefawkindoo! Where's my limo? Where's the ticker tape?
Yes, it appears my protest worked. My sit out convinced the weather to get its shit together. Last night the temperature was in the 30s -- maybe even 32 degrees! Today, the prognosticating prognosticators prognosticate a 50-degree prognosis.
I'll run twice! In one week!
A roll! I'm on one!
Of course this warm up will only lull me into a false sense of temperate security before the final blizzard of the year drops 37 inches of snow on Northeast Ohio with a cold snap that shrivels my nuts so far up into my body that I'll shoot them out my nostrils the next time I blow my nose and my ass will be the envy of every well digger in the continental United States and I'll lose my toes to frostbite and never be able to run again and I'll have to take up walking on my hands just so that I can participate in local races to get token T-shirts that I will wear just to feel better about my sorry disposition. If only I'd followed my own advice and taken up hula hoop instead of running.