This morning’s run was surprisingly pleasant. I didn’t expect it to be the case, since it was already 73 degrees with 93 percent humidity at 5:30 a.m. — before sunrise. Still, I felt more or less comfortable over the 8.1 miles, probably because I was out the door by 5:45 a.m. so I missed having the sun beat down on me in all its ultraviolet glory.
I went out that early because I had to take one of our cats to the groomer before work to get her once-every-several-months buzz cut. She’s the only one of our cats who is long-haired, and if she doesn’t get trimmed now and again, things get hairy in more ways than one. It would be nice if cats would take a cue from the Shaven Yak of Ren & Stimpy fame and paddle up to the bathroom in magic flying canoes to shave themselves. There’s no way that I would try to trim a cat myself; I already have enough permanent scratch marks. I’ll leave that hazardous occupation to the professionals and gladly get up early to trundle her off to the kennel to get clipped.
Cat shaving notwithstanding, I always used to be a night person, not a morning person; however, I’ve been finding myself gradually getting up of my own volition to run in the morning earlier and earlier over the past year. It’s a trend that has accelerated as the weather has gotten hotter this summer, and the weird thing about it is that without consciously trying, I’ve also been going to bed earlier and not minding doing so one bit. I hope this isn’t a sign of early aging; I’m only approaching the big 3-0 in a few weeks, and at this rate I’ll be a regular for the early bird special at the local old people magnet restaurant long before I would ever need bifocals and pastel pants.
I can’t imagine why anyone would ever think they need pastel pants, but it seems that a lot of people of retirement age seem to think they do, because so many wear them regularly. If I ever began wearing pastel pants at an advanced age, though, my life would come full circle. I was a kid in the 1980s, and when I was in second or third grade, I had what was generally regarded at the time as the coolest pair of pants ever: pastel aqua blue dress slacks, just like what Don Johnson wore in Miami Vice. While it’s sad that what once was the height of coolness has devolved into the uniform of white-haired buffet line denizens, it was pretty strange in retrospect to see that particular sartorial statement ever conquer fashion’s summit in the first place.
Wow. I’m not sure how what started as a run report disintegrated into a rambling discourse about shaving cats and pastel pants. It just goes to show if you let your mind wander, it can run aground on some strange new shoals sometimes. How the heck did I wind up with a phrase like, “Cat shaving notwithstanding,” in anything, let alone an ostensible run report on a public blog, with the bizarre idea that people might actually spend time reading it? Now I know how the ancient mariner must have felt pulling random people aside and ranting about that damn albatross.