So, if you've known me for any length of time at all (more than 10 minutes is probably sufficient), you know that I have enough tics, peeves, and quirks to start my own psych ward. (My own, personal, private psych ward. I hope the docs bring the good meds.)
So, when I stumbled across a blog dedicated to making fun of the general inability of the English-speaking world to use apostrophes correctly, I promptly added it to my blogroll. Go here to see what all the fuss is about.
And, if you thought I was done talking about my half marathon, you're completely loony. As with every other subject, I intend to harp upon it until I am distracted by something else. I didn't mention before that a pal from my Aim days (he was an assistant, I was a student; our paths rarely crossed until he married my teammate's sister. Then our paths still rarely crossed. Oh, well, I know his name, at least.) also ran the half marathon; he and someone else I kind of know were standing in front of me at the start. I was sort of with them until about mile 3, when they disappeared from sight for the remainder of the race (and finished 15 minutes ahead of me).
Well done them, I say. Then today, when I spent most of the day rejoicing that I could walk again (and mostly get up & down from chairs), I saw them in the park. Running. That's right, three days after running a half marathon. And they were smiling.
Okay, I start training again next week. And this time, I'm serious.