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Apparently I look like a fish gasping for water when I run.  Pictures from the Grand Canyon Half Marathon were published today on Lucid Images. These horrifying embarrassments are available for a price. Scanning through the images of "OK" signs, frowns, "Rock On" hand signals, and "I think I am dying right here and right now" faces, I saw my own face. First thoughts? THAT IS SOME SERIOUS FISH FACE.  OK so it's not that bad, but everybody is pretty skeptical when it comes to pictures of themselves. I would post the pics for your inspection, but I'm cheap and refuse to pay $20 for duckface. You will have to be satisfied with the after-image.  Quick story about this pic... 2 minutes before this was taken, I had the pleasure to be reintroduced to chocolate milk after a race. Note to self: Chocolate milk after running is bad for Katelin. I do not care what the commercials say; Chocolate milk makes my stomach go through acrobatic maneuvers...

For a definition of the "butt-crack of dawn," you should only be awake before 4 am; therefore, by definition, we were awake and driving at the butt-crack of dawn. 2:45 am and driving. No coffee. Lethal combos. Hank and I were obliged to leave for the Grand Canyon Half Marathon early enough to sign in before 6 am three hours away. The only reason I was not trying to hide Hank's body by the time we reached our destination was the timely interferance of Claire de Lune. Note on classical music and my non-coffee moods: I am a monster without coffee. Think Frankenstein's bride plus Hannibal Lector with a dash of Regina George and you will get the picture. That said, classical music cages the monster with melodies of heartbreak. It washes over my irritated soul to find the human under the fur. Back to the story: We arrived at the Grand Canyon at the hour of 5:00 and were  among the first runners to sit in semi-frozen cars awaiting the starting gun at 7:00 am. YES. Planni...

Yes. There was a snake, and it was in the door. I walked to school today, as I do every day, to get books for class planning. There ends the normal day. I noticed that the back door for the school was slightly ajar. I opened the door to go through. I looked down, something moved. Moving critters are not strangers to the area, and mostly consist of Jerusalem crickets, stinkbugs the size of your thumb, scorpions, or lizards. A moving strand of scales and danger about 3 feet long writhed between the door and the door frame just below the hinge. After a millisecond of casual visual investigation, the neurotransmitters of my brain sent two impulses through my body in rapid succession. First Impulse: Scream like you are a small rodent on fire for a duration of two seconds before realizing what you just accomplished. Second Impulse: Shut door like the door is the only thing separating you from a horde of zombie superheroes. Effectively trapping the bull snake half in and half out ...