But not nearly enough.
That’s the thing about 1.5-income finances — there’s never enough left over for travel. I get out of town so infrequently I don’t even dream of things like getting on airplanes and using my passport. (Although I have high hopes for Istanbul in 2007. Somehow, some way.)
So I found one of those what-states-have-you-visited map generators, and it would seem that I have actually been around the block:
Even if some of those were only drive-thru (Kansas, at 85 mph) or change-planes (Utah) visits, it seems I’m on my way to bagging 50. But how could I have gone this far in life and not made it to Maryland? This I don’t understand.
Something else you might not know about me: I went to high school with Justin Timberlake’s Uncle Mark. Or so I’m told. I remember him in junior high, but after that I sort of lose the thread.
Well. We can tell it’s Friday, can’t we?
So let’s go straight to the admittedly skimpy bloggage:
First, the copper problem, explained in the DetNews.
And second: I’m not a runner. Never will be a runner. Hate running in all its forms. Think running is overrated as both exercise and test of character, and yes, many think of it as a test of character. You can find marathon runners and ultramarathon runners throughout the executive suites, where the ability to train for and complete a long-distance race is seen as proof of the sort of flinty toughness needed in today’s business world, particularly when you have to lay off the doughy non-runners on the shop floor. (OK, that was a cheap shot.) The most boring people I know are runners. So are several of the most interesting, but if I lined up all the runners I know and sorted them into boring/interesting piles, the boring pile would tower over the other, especially when they talk about their training routines. (Another interesting set and subset: Crazy people who are also devoted chess players.) And the thing is, I like long sessions of boring, repetitive exercise. I love biking, love swimming laps, have flirted dangerously with rowing, and the closest I ever came to bodhisattva while exercising was on an erg, although I now know my form was all wrong. I once thought I should maybe train for a triathalon, and then remembered I’d have to run. And gave it up.
When I was a copy editor, one of my duties was editing — and slashing the crap out of — the running column. Definition of hell: reading 800 words about shin splints at 5:45 a.m.
Anyway, I know runners have their own issues, both within and without their community. A runner I know (interesting) fumed after overhearing a famous sportswriter bitching loudly on the topic of this Slate throwdown, about how “sluggish newbies” have ruined the marathon.
…this growing army of giddy marathon rookies is so irksome that I’m about ready to retire my racing shoes and pick up bridge. …The marathon has transformed from an elite athletic contest to something closer to sky diving or visiting the Grand Canyon. When a newbie marathoner crosses the finish line, he’s less likely to check his time than to shout, “Only 33 more things to do before I die!”
A fun read.
Now I’m going to get on the bike, before the rain starts.