2) Enormous crowds of people who you get trapped behind....because they aren't moving....because they have created a log jam of humans....because they just HAVE to get a sample of a Hot Pocket.
But seriously. What has humanity come to when we are willing to stand in line at a sample table to get a little bite of a Hot Pocket? (Although Costco does have one enormous redeeming quality: pumpkin pie.)
Another thing I did over the Thanksgiving break (besides cooking a turkey to the point that it looked like it had been through a nuclear attack) was to run.
One run was at the high school track. This was the first time I had been to the track since I ran a 100 miler there in July when it was 107 degrees. (Unfortunately that 107 number isn't exaggerated.) Stepping foot on the track again triggered a bit of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. I promptly fell to the ground and started whimpering and sucking my thumb. Then I jumped over people.
Those people were my wife Mel and my daughter Kylee. It was totally fun running with them. Until we decided that the only thing more fun than running around the track in the cold morning air was to NOT run on the track in the cold morning air and go drink hot chocolate instead.
The day after Thanksgiving I went on my first real run in a whole month. Back in February I set a goal to run a 100 miler each month for 12 months in a row. (Right now I'm up to 10.) After I finished the Javelina Jundred at the first of November I gave my body an extended break. I did a few very short runs and did some hiking but basically I didn't run for four weeks.
So on that day after Thanksgiving I went to my home trail. The place where I fell in love with running on dirt. It's called the JEM Trail. Dear JEM Trail: You. Complete. Me.
The temperature that day was exactly what the temperature will be in heaven. It felt so, so good to be back to real running.
Can I tell you why I love running trails like this so much? Because there is no Costco. No people standing in front of you standing still transfixed by slippers. No Hot Pockets.