Ticked off and paranoid

Admission: I didn't run this weekend.

I meant to, but then I forgot to and went ahead and took a shower and then remembered, "crap, I need to run," but like I said, I had already showered and if I went running I'd very likely get sweaty and nasty and I'd have to take yet another shower (because - let's be honest - not showering would be harmful to the people around me and maybe you think that's OK because you're not a very kind person but I don't find that very nice at all) and another shower means more water down the drain (literally) and I'm an Earth-friendly person (some times) and I recognize what a waste that is and I couldn't very well live with myself if I were some kind of wasteful, selfish water hog (because we've got one planet, one chance, people!) so I decided, after much reflection, a mug of coffee and some morning haiku writing, to forgo the run in honor of Mother Earth.

I feel OK about it. Though it'd be nice if you could stop rolling your eyes at me. It almost seems like you don't agree with my logic. That's OK, not everyone understands it at first. Keep practicing, work hard and one day - if you're lucky - it'll make sense.

I did run this morning at Macworth (again). It was a fairly decent jaunt for a Monday (when we're all a little sluggish). But I couldn't enjoy it as freely as I normally do thanks to a bothersome insect paranoia I developed over the weekend.

Saturday I was over in Naples enjoying the Maine Blues Festival - I was sitting at a table at Rick's, minding my own beeswax and being altogether well behaved when I felt the slightest itch in my left underarm. I moved to scratch it and when I did I felt something. It was something small, like a mole maybe, but the mole detached from my skin when I grabbed it between my fingers. And FYI, moles aren't supposed to do that.

I looked down at my finger and there rested one small, hostile little tick. I don't know how I know he was hostile, but I figured if I was hovering over a Volkswagen-sized pile of cross-cut fries and some big-handed jerk plucked me away before I could dive in, I'd be hostile.

At any rate, for the rest of the evening I continued to feel phantom insects. On the back of my neck, on my forearm, everywhere.

And then this morning, as I'm jogging along an overgrown portion of the path, I run face-first into a fresh spiderweb. You know that feeling - one strand of it catches across your nose and you grab at it and your brain recognizes what it is and suddenly you get to feeling like you're covered in flesh-eating beetles.

It didn't help that I hit another one about 30 seconds later. I figured the spider call had gone out, and every arachnid on the island was bound and determined to put a stop to my web-destroying madness.

So I ran with my hands over my head (because the only thing worse than having a bug in your armpit is having a bug in your hair. Remember that story about the spider that laid eggs in some chick's hair? Urban Legend? I don't think so). [Insert shivers and look of nausea here.]

So there - that was sort of about running, right?