Yesterday I ran two miles. Well, by ï¿½ranï¿½ I mean ï¿½joggedï¿½ and by ï¿½joggedï¿½ I really mean ï¿½shuffled,ï¿½ because Iï¿½ve caught sight of myself in the reflection of the windows around the track at the gym, and the way I move with my gait I look like amateur claymation, but whatever I was doing, I did it without stopping.
I went two miles, which means if I had been running/jogging/shuffling in a straight line (instead of the fancy circular track at the gym) and if youï¿½d stood in the place where I started and if we both had cheap walkie-talkies, you could probably still reach me on the radio, but it would be pushing it, you know, because I would be almost out of range; like THATï¿½S how much I ran/joggged/shuffled. And if whatever you had to tell me was really important youï¿½d have to call me on my cell phone just to be sure, but of course I might not answer, because hello! I just ran two miles! Excuse me if I am not exactly in a chatty mood! Leave a message! Two miles! Which I ran at an estimated speed of five miles an hour–which, if I were a sport utility vehicle, would be fast enough to cause thousands of dollars worth of damage to myself if I hit a pole.
But I didn’t hit any poles, or cars, or anything, though there was this one guy there on the gym track who I’d sort of like to smack, since he is there every morning trundling along in what appears to be ordinary street clothes, and I hate him because his civilian presence somehow disrupts my personal sense of Fitness Urgency. When I come up behind his big blocky back and am try to muster the energy to pass him my mind starts shooting indignant sparks: curse you, Perambulator! I’ll think. Still, I did the two miles.
Thanks for your emails about my grandmother, by the way. I was thinking of her the other day when I was reading about The Nutshell Studies of Unexplained Death exhibit, a collection of miniature dioramas of real death investigations. She’d loved the Thorne Rooms Miniatures at the Art Institute but she was also a fan of mystery books and shows, so I wonder if she would have liked the unique combination of tiny scale replicas and police intrigue. Or maybe she would’ve thought it was horrifying. Either way, I have to go see it for her.
In long overdue book news: people have been asking if I’ll be doing any readings for the book this spring. The answer is YES and at least two will be in the Chicago area. The first one will be Wednesday, April 27, at Women & Children First in Andersonville. If you’re in the Chicago area and would like a handy reminder of this event, you can join my local mailing list by sending your mailing address to firstname.lastname@example.org. (I’d love to try and set up some sort of web form for this.)
More reading info to come in March…