Breaking Down

Today marks 30 days until I run the Marine Corps Marathon. My running is not in doubt; everything else is.

An hour ago, my car broke down, just 1 1/2 miles from my home. I just found out my car’s coolant line is corroded to the point where the coolant is leaked dry. The car has been running hot for a few weeks, and tonight it finally overheated.

Before tonight, I was looking at $330 for parts and labor. God alone knows how much that’s going to cost now.

My car is 10 1/2 years old, which means 80 in dog years. It has been steadily breaking down; ion the last five years I have had to replace the transmission, the engine, and the carburetor. I need a new air conditioner control panel, maybe a defroster/defogger system a turn signal switch arm, a FUEL LOW lamp, a windshield, and a latch for the driver’s side door.

In short…I need a new car.

Running is the only thing I have going right in my life right now, and even that is starting to come into question. The circuit courses are starting to strain my left knee and my right elbow, so I think next week’s circuit course II will end my gym work for this training period. Last Sunday, despite Body Glide and a tech shirt, my left nipple got chafed.

I am running low on everything right now. Work and school have become more noise for me to ignore. I can’t enjoy the NFL anymore because everybody is on some crusade against domestic violence, child abuse, racism or whatever comes down the pike. Every time I surf the web for news, I get more and more evidence that the world is being run by fifteen year old kids.

The bills are slowly piling up, and I just doubled them this evening with my car breaking down. The weight hasn’t come off like it should.

I will check this out after the run on Sunday, but my fourteen minute mile pace is not the problem; everything else is.

Not that much of Jackson Browne fan, but this song kinda fits how I feel…

Okaaay…I like this one too:

Yes, I’m stealing everything from Forrest Gump’s running sequence. So sue me:

While waiting for the wrecker to come get me, I hung out with a friend who had this CD playing; I asked him “Is that a DJ scratching? Does hip hop even do that anymore?”

Speaking of Outkast, this is my #1 recommended song for anybody who is coming close to being clinically depressed:

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