Today, Spouse had the honor of owning the morning. See that's what we do around here is take turns owning the morning. I like the mornings. A LOT. I like to run in those mornings. A LOT. Spouse also likes the mornings A LOT. He likes his mornings to ride bicycles, shoot his assorted weaponry and hunt (when the season allows.)
Being as the Yahoos are 8 years and under, we cannot share the same morning. We must take turns. When it's Spouse's morning, I get to run later without my little running gang. That means by myself - without the chit-chat and the jokes and the gossip.
Today was Spouse's morning and he was ever so conflicted. Should I bike? Should I hunt? Should I run about in my knickers? He was ever so conflicted.
Spouse decided to bike with Zimm and Giant Gym. (Identities have been changed, somewhat.)
Before leaving on his adventure with Giant Gym and Zimm, he made an awesome display of saying goodbye. I was still in bed with three pillows over my eyes (helps with the wrinkles, you know.) When one of us leaves in the morning, we normally mumble, "see ya... have fun" without any fanfare.
Things were different today. It was in his voice. Spouse wanted some attention. When he gets that look-at-me-I-want-attention tone of voice, he's usually dropped his trousers some in order to show a bit of crack. Not today. Today was extraordinary.
Spouse had a new cycling outfit.
"I call it 'Cycling Suicide.'" He said.
Zimm offered Spouse a tan jersey. You know, to seal the deal on Spouse's life insurance policy (in the which I am the sole beneficiary.)
See? Conflicted! Poor guy couldn't decide if he wanted to bike or hunt. Now he'll get to bike and be hunted.
Just as Spouse returned from his adventure (alive so sadly I'm not a millionaire), I was polishing off my warm bread with butter and honey (that's what Armstrong eats each morning of the Tour de France, did you know that? His chef told me so on some documentary.) Being as going for a run on a full tank of warm bread, butter and honey doesn't fly so well, I had to wait a half-hour before I went out for my run.
(Now why did I tell you this useless piece of information? It honestly has nothing to do with the story I'm trying to tell. This means my subconscious wants to show something off. Prolly the fact that I know what Armstrong eats? Or the fact that I eat butter, honey and warm bread? Who knows. Either way, it ain't being deleted now because I've consumed an entire afternoon writing it.)
Finally, 'round 11:00am I ventured out.
Here's where the Temple, Hunting or Football Game comes into play. I live in north Utah County - a place where I can cover 6 different cities on a 6 mile run. Today was a beautiful, fall day. Perfect, perhaps. Today was one of those days that helped me remember the joys of running by myself. The air is cool, the mind becomes clear and the tunes are CRANKED! All of these things, set the stage perfectly for playing my favorite running game: The Temple, Hunting or Football Game Game. ("Game" twice was on purpose so don't send me an e-mail.)
Here's how the game goes. Runners run against traffic. This is a safety precaution, so that you can see who is going to hit you before they do hit you. See? Safety. Now, running against traffic makes it easy to look into windshields of oncoming cars and make up Stuff. Stories. Scandals. Scenarios. Fun!
As the car comes towards me, the idea is to figure out if the car is going to:
A) The Temple
C) A Football Game at the BYU
Sounds difficult, right? Well it isn't! Even you can do it. Let me give you some clues. If the dude in the car is wearing a tie or the girl is wearing something frilly, they're going to or coming from The Temple. If the vehicle is towing a trailer, that's a dead giveaway. A Hunting They Are Goin'! You can also spot the Hunting crowd by the bright orange or 5-day-old beards (even on the chicks.)
Doesn't the above sound so very obvious? It is - but compared to the BYU Football Fan crowd, it's not. First, there's the big Y flag on the antennae. Or the matching "Y" hats and visors. And if they refuse to wear BYU blue (like I would if I were to partake)? Every last idiot in the car would be smiling like a zoobie. Don't know what a zoobie looks like when they're smiling? Just picture "annoyingly happy" and you've got the idea.
The Temple, Hunting or Football Game game was all good and entertaining for about 5 miles. I was nearing the mouth of American Fork canyon when I realized there were two new groups of Saturday-goers to add to the mix. They were:
D) Mountain Bikers (who carry their bicycles on their vehicles and wear smashing shades. Roadies don't carry their bikes on their vehicles, right? Unless they're going to somewhere like Vermont to ride.)
E) Shower Gals (are a carload of girlies in designer clothing heading to a Baby or Bridal shower. And you know they're all ticked because that bitch Marsha scheduled the shower during The Game.)
(Incidentally, I just checked some facts. The BYU game is at San Diego State - so oops for me. HOWEVER, those goofy gomers were getting all geared up to watch the game at a house somewhere, not at The Stadium. Really folks. It's just football. Not religion.)
(OOPs again! I forgot today was already the 24th. Incidentally, the game IS at The Stadium. Everyone say "HOMECOMING!" Still. It's just football. Not religion.)
I'm mad at Spouse now. He didn't invite me to go to The Homecoming at The BYU with him. Isn't that what you do as alumni? Bring yer spouse 20 years later?
He just announced, however, that he's cooking dinner. I'd rather have him cook dinner.