Knock Knock. Anyone Home?

There were no posts made to this blog in March, April, May or June.

Huh.

It’s not like I haven’t been “pondering” during all those months. I ponder something or other on a daily basis. Some of it is quite profound. Most of it is meaningless drivel.

So why no posts here?

Beats me.

I *did* publish a post on Unfiltered.me, a wicked smart blog that my pal Brian Gardner put together. You should read that blog. It’s got some really (really) good writers. The kind that make me think, “You’re gonna have to step it up and bring your A-game to even come close to doing what these folks do with a keyboard.”

What else has happened in the passing months…

Let’s see.

I finished a marathon. The 26.2 miles of pure bliss and unadulterated torture of a full marathon. That was a big giant goal I set for myself in my ongoing quest to wave the middle-finger at heart disease. Several people have asked if I’ll do another one. The answer is a resounding “NO”. I ran that marathon for me, as a test of sorts to see if I had the discipline (some might say stupidity) to do it. Mission accomplished.

Why not another one?

It’s not the race as much as it is the training. Sure, the day after I felt like I’d been hit by a truck, but pain is temporary. The feeling of accomplishment is profound, and far outweighs sore muscles and aching knees. The training however is a big giant time suck. I spent the better part of two years training for that thing. Hours and hours on the road. I’d like to apply that time to something else.

What that something is, I don’t know yet.

I enjoy the half-marathon distance. Of course training is required for that distance, but it’s not like the training required for a full marathon. And it’s not nearly as painful. So I’m sticking with 10K’s and half-marathons. Running should be fun, not torture.

I also broke my wrist several weeks ago. As part of my marathon training I’d climb stairs. There’s a lovely spot in downtown Seattle called Harbor Steps. 101 – 103 steps (depending on which side you take), dodging people, smelling the pizza joint down the alley. It’s a delightful place to do stairs. Unfortunately, I am not a very graceful person and one day I was texting on my phone (or emailing. Maybe Facebooking, I don’t really recall) and I tripped up the stairs. For whatever reason my brain said, “SAVE THE PHONE!” so I stuck my left hand out to break my fall and managed to break instead the scaphoid bone in my left wrist. Think “where the thumb bone connects to the wrist bone.” This would mark not the first time I’ve broken that very bone, not the second time, but the third time. I knew it was broken as soon as I hit the ground.

By the way, the phone survived without a scratch. So there’s that.

Running a marathon in a cast sucks. Trust me.

I’d list the benefits of having a cast on your wrist for seven weeks, if there was something to list…

Well, there was the time the TSA officer at the airport helped me tie my shoes.

And this cute girl helped me open a bag of Cheetos. (Don’t judge. Cheetos are an important part of marathon training.)

But other than that, there is zero redeeming value in wearing a cast. It’s itchy, smelly and makes you realize how truly important and handy opposable thumbs are.

No Promises

I really really want to write more here. Really I do. I’m going to try.

But I’m not making any promises.

Meanwhile, I *will* be making some contributions over on Unfiltered. Seriously, go check it out.

You know the cast has been on way too long when the homeless guy says, “Mornin! How’s the wrist?”

— Jay Thompson (@PhxREguy) July 1, 2014