In anticipation of a nasty hangover tomorrow morning, I decided to switch up my schedule and get my long run in this morning. I'd now like to proudly announce that due to having zero knowledge of this area and super craptacular mapmyrun skills, I have apparently set a new world record by running 31.3 miles in a little over an hour. Take that, Meb!
Line for autographs forms to the left, people. No need to push.
So, ummm...it turns out that Edgewood Lane and Edgewood Avenue are two totally different streets that just happen to live within half a centimeter of each other on google maps. Who knew? I never bothered to fix the slight mapping error, so I can't say for sure, but it's entirely possible that I didn't run 31.3 miles this morning.
But I did leave my mark on the Dipsea Trail by puking all over it. Yeah, I'm a pretty classy girl. I figured since I didn't really know where I was and wasn't sure how to get back to where we're staying it might actually help me if something happened and CSI: Mill Valley had to come looking for me. They could start tracing my route from the snot rocket near the slide at the park, to the one out front of Balboa Cafe...after that they might be a little confused for awhile but if they happen to be runners they'd most likely figure that I'd loop around the mill...another snot rocket at the Eileen Fisher store, then the puke on the Dipsea steps...really, I'm all about personal safety.
So, enough about me. Let's talk about...ME! What? You were expecting some witty political commentary or something? Is this your first time here? As far as I know there are about 3 people who read this thing, which means I don't feel obligated to put much work into coming up with witty prose, and that suits me just fine. Anyway...
Finally talked to my parents. They're fine, thanks for asking. I was back in the U.S. for approximately 5.3 minutes before I received the eagerly anticipated, "Welcome home, now go find a job" email from my mom, and I think it was less than his record 3.7 seconds into the conversation with my dad when he blurted out, "WHY CAN'T YOU JUST SETTLE DOWN?!?!?" I immediately went into EMERGENCY SWITCH THE TOPIC MODE by mentioning something about my brothers, thereby sparing the dreaded, "When I was your age, I was blah, blah, blah..." stories. Overall, it was quite painless. It's much easier now that he's retired, and not always being bombarded with stories about people I went to high school with.
"So-and-so stopped by the store today...she's having a baby, you know."
"She's been having babies pretty regularly since she was 14. Is that the life you always wanted for your only daughter?"
"Well...at least she's settled down!"
It has occurred to me that I should probably ask him what his definition of "settled down" is, but I'm afraid it would just make my ears bleed.
As for Einstein, he's not up and running yet, but I have been to visit him several times and lovingly decorated him by drawing hearts in all the dust he's covered in. The problem is I have to get him registered and insured. Fair enough. Except my driver's license is totally MIA. So, instead of cruising around in the cutest car ever, I am stranded in a beautiful house with a never ending supply of fantastic food, surrounded by enormous ancient Redwood trees and only a few minutes walking distance from the awesome Dipsea trail, Muir Woods, and Mt. Tam trails. Yup, stuck here because I can't remember where I safely stored my license, which I need for insurance and registration. Sigh. WILL THE PROBLEMS OF THE FIRST WORLD NEVER END?!?!?
Alright, time for me to sign off. Now that I've dumped all the bacon out of my stomach, I need to go fill it up again.