It is cold as duck outside. I don't know why I'm saying 'duck' instead of the other word that rhymes with 'duck'. I went out this morning, determined to get my runner wings back. I put on long sleeves and pants, since I knew it was cold, but boy was it cold. 26 degrees Fahren, with 12 mile per hour winds. The cold I can handle, the wind makes it feel like someone is stabbing me with cold knives. Anyway, Yazhi and I braved it for a measly 2 miles, about half of which I walked. The breathing is the toughest I think. After having not run for.. a number of months, I hate being totally winded after just a hundred yards. But here's to trying to be back on the wagon.
In other news, I had a successful birthday, in the way that birthdays are deemed successful: I am still alive, I ate good food, I had good times. Friday evening found the lot of us at El Patron for food and Margaritas. I consumed margaritas until I was no longer able to reliable hold up my end of intelligent conversation, then my friends found a mariachi band, who sang, and then I got whip cream right in the face. It was good stuff. We left there, eventually, went to the other Williams' place for a few minutes to gather ourselves, then on to Memphis to hang out with the Youngers. I think we made it back to Southaven by 3AM and crashed at the other Williams' place, since we were simply to birthday'd out to drive on back to our place. Thanks to my friends for their terrific company. I could not have asked for a more fantastic time.
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