Thursday's Poop...and Nothing But the Poop!

From YahooNews: A woman walking her dog was accosted by a would-be thief who snatched the bag she was carrying only to find it contained...dog poop. Not having much immediate use for the poop, the thief pulled his gun and demanded money. Upset when none was forthcoming he tried to shoot the dog (otherwise known as the poop's former owner) and failed when his gun mis-fired. The thief was last seen fleeing in a small silver car. No word on what happened to the poop. Tough town for punks, I guess.

Oh, and you might want to think twice next time you're tempted to have a baby at a gas station...

Nothing I did today comes even remotely close to matching those stories for comic absurdity. Though, to some, I probably looked a little "punkish" or even "Lamaze-ish" as I huffed and puffed through a 9-mile, 80 minute run. After a warm-up, I was supposed to start picking things up mile-by-mile, hitting my half-marathon pace by mile 4 and beginning a two-mile cool-down at mile 8.

I averaged 8:03 minutes/mile through mile 7 and pegged my heart rate firmly in high zone 4/low zone 5. That's actually a bit faster than I'm shooting for in the half-marathon, but I'll take it to the bank for now.

Since I can't eat out every night my family is gone (and Lord knows I've tried on several occasions) I guess I'll have to decide what to make for dinner. Maybe something from Giada De Laurentiis's new cookbook. If the food (or how I prepare it) sucks, well, the pictures of her are darn comforting. Guess that's what they mean by "comfort food."