This morning, I decided to attempt a ten-mile run. I mapped out the race course on WalkJogRun.Net and then wrote down the directions on a sticky note, because I really didn’t want to make a wrong turn that would extend a 10-mile run into an 11-mile run. Or even a 10.1 mile run. Any extra yardage was pretty much unacceptable, in my opinion. I also noted the locations of a few key mile markers, and then I put the sticky note in the pocket of my running shorts. You know, that little rectangular pocket that gets all sweaty, the one with the fold-over flap to secure the contents, the flap that also makes it difficult to extract anything while you are actually wearing the shorts.

So I ran and ran and ran, trying to recall the mile markers I had recorded, reluctant to wrestle with the note in my pocket. Finally, I noticed I was coming up on the 95 overpass, a location I remembered as the halfway mark. I rejoiced as I hit the middle of the bridge, until I saw that I was running over the spray-painted words, You Will Die Some Day.

Hm, I think the artist missed the ominous note he was shooting for. Some day? Certainly, but with any luck not on this run.

Then I took out my sticky note and saw that the 95 overpass was the FOUR mile mark, not the five. And I did die a little bit. But not all the way!

And I finished the whole damn ten miles without walking once.