Hallowe...oh never mind

I was going to get all excited about Halloween this year, and then I realized it was going to fall on a Monday. A Monday people! I don't care what people say, nothing is as much fun as it could be when it falls on a Monday. Even Christmas is marred by that "oh jeez, we need to get back to work again" cloud of darkness, whenever it happens to fall on a Monday. Therefore I propose that we a) make Halloween a federal holiday, allowing poor workerbees like myself an entire day to carve pumpkins, drink pumpkin spiced lattes, and engage in other pumpkin-related activities, before we have to deal with hordes and hordes of polyester-clad children who are high on sugar, and b) always hold in the last Friday in October.

Why my scrooge-like attitude towards Halloween, you ask? It really has nothing to do with Halloween, really. This weekend, while on my last pre-half-marathon run, my body decided it was having no! more! of! this! running! thing! and hence I was forced to walk home after five miles. I wish I could tell you what is wrong with me, but I can't. I'm sure it has something to do with my ever-irritable ITB, but since the pain now includes my hip, and radiates all the way up into my lower back, who knows.

I would also love to tell you I dealt with it in a graceful manner. But, alas, I didn't. Instead of realizing I would not be PRing in next week's race and moving on, I came home in tears, cried on husband-dears shoulder, and whilst sitting in my ice bath, threw all the rubber duckies on the side of tub across the bathroom.

(On a side note; true love is when your better half walks in, sees the duckies lying across the floor, and asks you, "Would you like me to pick those up so you can throw them again?")

So do I want to hand out candy to a bunch of kids tonight? Of course not. I'd much rather sit on the couch, pout, and think of ways to convince the physical therapist tomorrow that I really need lots of high-end painkillers. I want to call Mary (she of the running store, who since moved to Italy), who went through the same thing with a marathon last year, and commiserate. I want to whine and complain about how totally unfair this is, and eat all the Halloween candy we bought myself.

But since the girls next door already stopped by yesterday to tell me they were going to dress up as cheerleaders (lest we don't recognize them), and the neighbor on the other side dropped off a bag of candy for us to give to hear younger son who is deathly allergic to anything peanutty, I guess I'll participate in this year's Halloween anyway. Perhaps I'll find an old overcoat, top-hat, and cane,  pretend to be Ebenezier Scrooge, and nag at all the children.

Huh.
That's actually not a bad idea at all.

Now excuse me while I go do some stretches...