Minimalist

I'm a simple runner. Give me a tank top, shorts, shoes, my SportsBand, a path and I'm off. I can't stand water belts, iPod cuffs or any other accoutrement that runners use. Please, I rarely wear sunglasses. I sneer at anything that may bob, bounce, slip, slide, chafe, drive me crazy.

I shocked all the ladies I run with this Sunday when I showed up carrying my iPod. The last time I listened to music while running had to have been about 2 years ago. But I didn't care... I wanted to groove. Even if it meant fidgeting with the earbud cord or carrying my iPod in my hand. Did. Not. Care... until 54 minutes.

I don't know what happened. Maybe the earbud cord started to tangle too much, my hand was slippery from sweat or the buds slipped out at a much too frequent rate. Whatever it was, I had a temper tantrum (only like 5 seconds worth) in which I nearly chucked the iPod on the ground and muttered a hopefully (there were families around...) inaudible "Fuuuck. Shit". I wound the cord around the iPod and stuck it in my back pocket... and two steps later it started to bounce. "Motherfu..." escaped at a much louder volume and I pulled it out, cupped it in my hand, took off on a sprint (not to catch up with my time, but because I was pissed) and continually thought for the remaining 30 minutes "NEVER AGAIN!"

I learned my lesson and I'll keep it simple from now on.

I blame my desire for some tunes Sunday morning on Maura's kick ass 40th birthday party from Saturday night. She hired Mr. Mister Miyagi (a live band that does 80s kareoke) to play in her backyard. It was great. Mostly because I did not sing. No one wants to hear that.