I have a big decision to make today. Big, big, BIG. So big is this decision, that it has been in the running for two straight months. I have suffered two straight months of gut-rolling, anxiety-driven angst over this particular decision's ifs, whens, and butts. I've lost sleep over this decision. I've had trouble doing all of the individual duties in my normal life.
Trouble doing my duties.
What, pray tell, is this brobdingnagian decision, that carries the weight of twelve elephants? Is it turmoil over a new job? Is it choosing to have or not have another child? Are we considering that ixnay-on-the-ildrenchay should be made permanent? By removing a few millimeters of a tube or two in Spouse or myself? Are we considering a move to a new home or city? To Colorado or beyond? Well, no. It's none of that. The decision, that must be made by midnight tonight (technically it's midnight tomorrow night, but we're on-time-is-early kind of people) is:
Should I, or should I not, run the New York City Marathon.
I'll bet you thought I was going to reveal and discuss something juicy, yes? Running the New York City Marathon is quite a juicy decision; it requires juice and produces juice. But I'm sure it lacks the drama most of you were hoping for. Sorry. I'm an open book, but not that open. Some things - like whether Spouse or myself should be removed from the gene pool - are sacred. (Not that we're thinking about that kind of business anyway - it was just an example of things that prolly shouldn't be discussed on the rabidrunner blog.)
Now back to that dang marathon. Why the trepidation? Why the introspection? Why the deliberation? Why all of these ations?
It's a dreadful drag that the evil entity we moniker "money" gets to determine our decisions. I know there are many people out there who say, "money doesn't matter." And to this I say, "Bah! Money matters. Everywhere!" Think of the last time you made a decision where money wasn't the pulsating member* atop your list of influential variables. Think. Can you remember one? I'm speaking of decisions of consequence, not decisions like which socks to wear each morning. If you are able to remember such a situation, where money wasn't the deciding factor, please do share so as I can learn. And stuff.
Let's break down that decision, shall we?
First and foremost, New York City ain't cheap. Marathon week is exponential for expenses in that Apple we call the Big One. Hotels cost much more than normal and airfare prolly does too.
Second and subsequent, blowing all that cash on a dumb race is selfish. Spouse needs a bike. He just does. He's been riding his "fast" Voodoo for years and its time for an upgrade. I should forgo my one-day, magical-marathon dream so as Spouse can cycle something fancy for four or more days in each of his weeks.
'Sides. I've been to India. And Paris. That should be enough me-me-me for a while. Yes?
Third and tertiary, we need a new couch. Or couches, whatever. Traditionally, I'm not the kind of person who will exchange fun money for furniture money (for fun is unmatched by anything else - furniture included.) But have you seen our couches? They are so bad I won't even post a picture. Traditionally, I'm not one who will exchange an ugly photo that tells a story for a pretty photo that doesn't tell a story. But have you seen our couches...? I mean, have you seen our couches!?
Fourth and final, I haven't decided who to go with or even if I have someone to go with. Spouse will go because he's 80% obligated. Even admitted so last night. I said, "I know you'll go because you're 80% obligated. But would you want to go if you weren't 80% obligated?" He said, "It's not my first choice" - which is Spouse Speak for "no." If Spouse goes, the Yahoos will go as well. You can see from First and Foremost (above) that the Big Apple times four is an Apple Orchard. Organic, of course.
Incidentally, the Yahoos want to see New York City. This is is a weighty factor to consider when deciding whether to plant that Organic Apple Orchard. They are motivated by something to do something! That in itself might be worth the cash.
On a side-note, the lovely Megan posted today! She mentioned that it's imbecile to toot your I-don't-take-money-for-advertising-on-my-blog horn. (I'm a fawning sycophant** when it comes to Megan and I do what she says. Except when we disagree - then we agree to disagree. We can be so very adult that way.) It never occurred to me, however, that someone would actually turn down cash for nonsense, let alone brag that they turned down cash for nonsense. Cash for nonsense is the best kind of cash, right?
I'm here to brag that I have never been offered any amount of trinket, cash or other such compensation for my blog. But had I been offered trinkets, cash or other such compensation, you bet your bright ass I'd take it and brag about getting it.
So, I'm a runner of mediocre positioning. I have eight followers who run. Does anyone have a product I can pimp so as to earn my way to the New York? Better hurry, I only have 11 hours and 59 minutes.
(Speaking of my eight followers who run, note that two of them are people I actually run with. Maybe not even two! I run with over fifteen people on a regular basis! I guess that means they get enough of me on the run... duh. Here I was, about to complain about my so-called running buddies, who don't care enough about me to read the blog, when it occurred to me that they get enough of me on the run. Oh well.)
*Thanks, Winder, for the pulsating member addition.
**Megan gets credit for fawning sycophant.