"Those" runs

I really hate "those" runs. You know the ones that just don't turn out as well as you hoped, either in feel, speed, or distance, and sometimes a combination of several. For me, they tend to be very frustrating, and I immediately feel like going back out the door and running again, in an attempt to redeem myself. Not that the results would be much different: the factors that affect a run are built up over days prior to, not just the hours before. I had a couple this week, which could easily be attributable to fatigue from Monday's ride and the cold I'm currently enjoying. Add on top of those the horrid bouncing of Fuel Belt bottles on my back, and unseasonably warm weather (which I'm not used to), and I suppose I can't expect everything to go perfectly. And even if I do, they didn't, so I just have to suck it up and prepare well for next time.

So, I haven't discussed office-isms in a while. I've noted a few lately, since we've had a bunch of folks changing physical locations, changing floors, and general shuffling. There are an alarming number of younger men that have to, when standing at the urinal, bend over and reach for their urine gear because of belly size. I would personally see that as a sign for change; I can't imagine looking down and not being able to see Mr. Happy because of a big ole' meat shelter belly. But I guess that's why I'm me, and they are them. I do always hope that my apparent fitness efforts may inspire some folks around the office.

There's a group of guys that go down every morning to eat breakfast together. The group has grown from 2-3 to now about 6-7 over the past couple of years. A thought occurred to me this morning for a title of these guys: I shall call them Reservoir Dorks (in reference to this being an IT organization, but absolutely without any disrespect to them.)

My environment has shifted 180 degrees with respect to background noise. The lady that sits on the phone all day talking about what her 16 y.o. daughter wears swimming, the cost of wheelchair rental at Dollywood, the level of the water in the lake near her lake house, ice skating, Girl Scout cookies, Tupperware, and all things extremely geeky and technical about mainframe administration, has moved to another floor. My former manager, that used to hold 120db speakerphone conference calls all day, every day, has also moved floors. The two dudes in the next aisle that discussed matters of personal life and laughed very loudly at jokes have moved now. It's like a morgue around here most times now. Except for the residual tinnitus, that is.

Our new departmental Admin Asst has an open-format cubicle right outside the bathroom. I was considering it yesterday, and although it's spacious, I would not like to sit there. With a view of the bathroom doors, and my tendency to people-watch, I would inadvertently start noticing how long people have been in the potty, and label them as poopers or pee-ers. As disturbing as it would be to realize the guys who had just finished dropping a deuce, I would be very very uncomfortable concluding that some of the ladies had just finished pushing some brown. I don't like believing that women do that.

I was doing really well about getting into the Christmas spirit, but 4 days of weather in the mid-70s and sunshine has got me thinking about spring. Probably not all bad, since I should begin making my transition from base building to preseason transition. I will figure out a way to get some swimming and cycling in every week (though cycling is tough with the short daylight hours), while maintaining the running focus for the next couple of months. March isn't far away, and that's the first tri!