Michael Corleone had it right.

"Just when I thought I was out . . . they pull me back in."

After the Wahsatch Steeplechase*, I came to grips with the fact that I wouldn't be able to run the Speedgoat.  My knee was tweaked and I was on the RICE-train to rehab-ville.  No training = no 50k.

And I was okay with that.  No more step ups in the corner, no more effing sandbag get ups, no more worrying about cramping up.  My running "season" was over.  I would just ride my bike and wait for dry land to begin. 

But then Karl threw a wrench in the works.  And now I have a whole year to think about step ups, cramping, posterior chain . . . ugghhhh.  Who needs a drink? 

Rollover?  Next year?!  No, you see, I was thinking that I wouldn't  . . . never mind.  Shit.  

* Finished 7 minutes faster than last year, but was on pace for much better than that.  Despite the geeky socks and the geeky pills, I cramped at mile ten and hobbled out the last seven.  Fail.

The beginning of the end.

I just joined Facebook. 

No good can come from this.

UPDATE:
I've been using Facebook for about 5 minutes and I'm already annoyed as shit.  Grrrr. 

SECOND UPDATE:
My brother and I have become Facebook Friends.  And I haven't gotten fired yet.  So far, so good.