I’m Jonasing for some speed. I know what you are thinking and, no, I’m not “Jonesing”. That was not a typo. I’m not quite that bad yet for a full on Jonesing. Instead, I’m a lesser version, a pseudo-imitation-whinier-thicker-browed version. I feel like running fast. I feel like doing speed work. I can’t. This lovable, heaven-blessed blanket of snow is getting in my way. I’m feeling slightly annoyed – not significantly so –but enough to cast sad-faced glances at my snowed in high school track as I pass by for – sigh – another easy run.
Jonasing (v): (1) To want something, mildly so. (2) To wish you had something but not enough to compel to action. (3) To desire insignificantly (4) To overlook pitchy vocals and caterpillar-browed brothers
I’m not sure how much progress I’m making with my running so far this year. I’m just spinning my wheels like a car stuck on a sheet of ice (topical simile!) All of my runs are within 10-15 seconds of the same pace. Fortunately, there’s still over three months to go until my half marathon. Plenty of time for thawing, speed work, re-freezing, thawing again, speed work, and another Jonas album. In the meantime, I am in full on Maintenance Mode.
I don’t think I‘ve ever had such a prolonged stretch of base-building, maintenance style running. Usually the weather breaks here and there - the temperature climbs above freezing for a few days - where you can sneak in a nice track work-out a few times during winter. It hasn’t happened since New Year’s Day. And who does speed work when there are football bowl games to watch and left over NYE beer to drink? Heck, I usually spend New Year’s Day alternating between football and walking around my llama-strewn house scratching my unwashed, unkempt hair asking ‘what the hell happened last night?’ while arranging for rides home for the midget with the Tostada chip bowl sombrero.
But I’m starting to feel that itchy, burning desire for speed. Either that or my herpes is flaring again. Without signs of painful bumps and rash, I’m going to assume it is the speed fiend within growling with hunger.* I’m tired of boring easy runs. I want SPEED. I mean, I’m not referring to the injectable kind. I emphatically denounce recreational drug use. In fact, if you have the methamphetamine kind of speed and thought that’s what I wanted, you should email me using the address on the sidebar so that I can reply in a strongly-worded missive about how much I don’t WANT IT and how you shouldn’t SEND IT TO ME along with a box of 10 ML DISPOSABLE NEEDLES.
It is 8 degrees right now. I’m going to wait until it hits 15 degrees later this afternoon and then slide on my YakTrax and head out onto the snow-covered sidewalks for another easy run. I’ll run past the local high school track, per usual for my lunch hour run, and look wistfully at the stacked hurdles and indecipherable lanes around the football field. I might engage in a heavy sigh if I think the sucking of wind won’t freeze my lungs. It’s sad to think that the only thing keeping me from my beloved 800’s is some crystallized water. It gives life…and it takes it away.
For me, the goal is to make it to March. March is where the thaw begins! March is when the 800’s bloom! March is when my speed fiend is satiated!
But if March turns out just as bad as January and February? Well, forget about Jonasing. I’ll be in full on Biebering.
Biebering (v): (1) To strongly desire something disproportionately to its actual value/talent. (2) To feel compelled to punch Usher. (3) To be poorly coiffed but able to convince others otherwise by some sort of mass brainwashing.
Seriously, if you have speed, email me.
*But keep an eye on that llama. There is one with bumps and a red rash.
Mrs. Nitmos and I will be heading north – North, can you believe it after I just complained about winter! – for the 2nd Annual Comedy Arts Festival. Once again, I wasn’t asked to perform (marking the second straight year I was overlooked, unintentionally I’m sure.) We’ll be taking in the comedy stylings of one of my favorite filthy-tongued Comedy Central roasters, Jeffrey Ross. I hope he has great material that I can steal and pass off as my own on this blog next week! Oh, plus add in a hot tub, red wine and delicious seafood and you have the rest of our planned weekend. Jeff Ross isn’t invited to the hot tub…unless he shaves.