I’m not really a fan of smokers

To some, it might seem like a trite thing; a dirty habit we know isn’t good for anyone, but it’s so socially accepted, that it’s easily capable of being overlooked. And then there are people like me who have seen worst-case scenarios of what smoking can do to a person, and I’d rather not see any more of those scenarios occur to people I know, much less anyone I’d want to get involved with.

A funny thing happened to me at the store the other day. I went in to pick up a few little odds and ends, and things for firing up the grill and throwing down some good old-fashioned ‘Murican hamburgers. I’m in line at the register, and for whatever reason, the woman in front of me has managed to chase off the cashier, and we’re standing there silently, with me not really trying to veil my annoyance at her actions which has ceased all forward progress of the process of making transactions. But for all intents and purposes, my items were on the belt, but were far too numerous to re-basket and move to another, actually moving checkout line.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see a petite girl enter the line I’m in, and put down a single item on the belt behind my items. I’m socially awkward enough around girls as it is, so I dare not look beyond the acknowledging-the-existence-of-another-human-being glance backward to see her. She’s kind of cute. A second later, what was likely her friends emerge, a pretty obvious couple, and rather . . . big folks.

In spite of my otherwise social shortcomings, I like to think I’m fairly astute in regards to my surroundings; there was plenty of garbled conversation, the couple friends sort of giggling, with the kind-of-cute girl repeatedly telling her friends to shut up, but in that teasing kind of way.

The big dude pipes up, and suddenly exclaims “I want what he’s having for dinner; some hamburgers,” referring to my pretty obvious items. This scenario is kind of coming together, and I’m fairly certain now that kind-of-cutie is notoriously single amongst her couple friends, and they’re teasingly spontaneously trying to wing for her, to me. I glance back and smile at the couple, while kind-of-cutie doesn’t look up.

Finally, the cashier returns, and for whatever reason, the woman who held up the line ends up walking away with no transaction completed. Finally, my items are finally processed and bagged. During this, I hear some mumbles amongst the couple, with kind-of-cutie telling them again to shut up. It’s at this time, big dude pipes up again, this time making a self-deprecating joke at their collective group how it takes three people to buy one item. I smirk at them again, again, kind-of-cutie isn’t looking back.

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Dreams about yelling at people

I didn’t sleep that well over the weekend.  To a degree that does not make me happy, but at the same time, I don’t necessarily feel overly exhausted or anything, so I guess it’s kind of a moot point.  Regardless, part of it had to do with my dog spazzing out and barking whenever the cats would get overly rambunctious, and in the case of last night, apparently I was having a really vivid dream, that not only continued on through three sleep interruptions, but made me feel sadistically amused to the point where I forced myself out of bed to get to my phone where I jotted down the gist of it in Notes so I could brog about it now.

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Warm Bodies was a warm something alright

I think the most telling thing is that when the ending credits roll, Jonathan Levine’s name doesn’t show up anywhere on it; probably because he doesn’t want anyone to realize that he was responsible for such a lame movie, as the director and screenplay writer.

So yeah, Warm Bodies was a pretty crappy movie, in a nutshell.  It was slow paced, predictable, mostly anti-climactic, and often times just plain boring.  Not even Rob Corddry could rescue it, and John Malkovich wasn’t in it nearly enough to bring it back to some degree of watchability.

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I always have unusual and lucid dreams at my parents’ house

Maybe its the ambient noise from the dehumidifier in my old basement, or maybe it’s the fact that I’m in completely pitch black darkness.  Maybe its the old blankets I used to use when I lived here nine years ago, on top of the mattresses which used to be my old bed.

Apparently, much like how I’ve signed up, or planned to be participating in many more runs and obstacle courses, in this dream, I had been running in several different zombie runs.  For all I know, this girl might have been one of the actual zombies I ran past just a few weeks ago.  But for intents and purposes, I had apparently run in zombie runs in Virginia, Toronto, Miami and Boston.  Each time, I noticed that I came across this one girl who was always participating in her own right, as a zombie.

The encounters were always brief, since I always in escape mode most of the time, but with this girl, I always lingered.  Whether it was because I was playing possum, or it was a one-on-one encounter, leading me to take my time and attempt to get up in their grill before trying to get around them.  The fact of the matter was that I kept running into the same girl several times over, and she was apparently appealing to me, even all dressed up as a zombie.

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The aftermath, in statistics

One hour, 44 minutes, 25 seconds – my official time in the Atlanta chapter of the zombie run.  Yikes.

That’s 66 minutes and one second longer than it took me to finish the course in Maryland.  Sure, the mud played a gigantic inhibiting factor in the Georgia run, but who am I to kid that I probably couldn’t have done way better than that time, if I had actually tried, instead of dicking around with my friends?  To put it in perspective, literally only 29 people “survived” with slower times than I did.  522 people “survived,” and I ranked 493 out of those times.

The fastest survival time was 39:37:10, which was actually 1:13:80 slower than my Maryland time, to put in perspective just how grueling the mud made the Georgia run.  A 41-year old man bettered that time by five minutes, but had apparently lost all his flags, therefore not really “the winner.”

I don’t regret my course of actions during the run, and I still declare that I had more fun this time, screwing around with the zombies, but this is quite an eye-opener for me.  In contrast to the Maryland run, I was rarely winded, and my muscles often fatigued before my stamina did, and I know I could have easily crossed in under an hour if I actually put forth the effort, state of survival up for debate.

Upon completion of the Atlanta zombie run, a part of me would be content at never participating again.  But a competitive part of me wants a degree of redemption; I don’t have anything to prove, but I still kind of want to end on a really high note.

Somebody call my mama, these legs are registered weapons

That’s right. Two-time! Two-time! Zombie run winnar!

So while I nurse my sore limbs and achy body parts, let me reminisce about the Atlanta chapter of the zombie run. Despite my trepidations going into the event, I can pretty easily say that I had a good of time as I did in Maryland, despite my reluctance up there too. If anything, I would venture to say that it was more fun than the first, for a myriad of reasoning.

Without much argument, the Atlanta zombie run was executed a million times better than the Maryland one. Granted, the Maryland zombie run back in October had the dubious task of being the inaugural event in which the bar was set, and all its failures and successes were what all the other chapters were to build off of, but the parking debacle and the tedious shuttling really, really hurt it badly. Whether it was superior planning or luck of the draw, Georgia’s venue for the event was far superior in the fact that there was plenty of on-site parking and no shuttles were necessary, and the local police appeared to be in cooperation and ready to deal with the traffic jams that never happened, probably because of the tornadoes or threat of them that ripped through the state the night before.

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Photos: Run For Your Lives! – Atlanta 5K Zombie Run

I’m currently pretty sore, my quads ache, my knees sting, and my back and neck even feel kind of stiff right now.  To cut straight to the chase, my friends and I all managed to survive the hometown “Atlanta” chapter of Run For Your Lives!, so for me, that makes two victories, over both Maryland and Georgia.  It was a good bit of fun, and about 5,000 times more muddy and messy than the Maryland debacle was, as evidenced in this image, as well as all the subsequent images.

But I’ll share my thoughts and go into further detail in a dedicated post.  But for the time being, enjoy the sparse images.

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