Feeling the way the great Emil Zatopek often looked—
—(our only similarity), I staggered through a truly rotten run yesterday morning, just when I was thinking of stretching it out a little. I had the tune, but the body parts on harmony must have had a rougher Saturday night than the rest of me, and the rhythm section just never showed up.
There are basically three choices when something like this happens: quit and walk it in (wussy but not always a bad idea); push it to see if you can force something to click (hasn’t worked for me in a long, long time); or just grind it out (who said this was supposed to be fun?). As most runners do, I just ground it out—but I didn’t add that extra mile or two.
I’m hoping a decent band appears on Tuesday morning. Hear me, body parts? We’re aspiring to Charlie Barnet. And just for fun, let’s go with “Caravan,” not “Cherokee.”
I know, I know. I’ll settle for a moderately well-played tom-tom.
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