Basically – I am a marathon runner whose mind has left this plane of existence. All that I am focused on is the goal of finishing the race. Crossing the line. Breaking the tape.
This weekend was a bit tumultuous. I came closer to having to change out of the pants than I have at any other time during the entire process. A spoonful of vanilla bean creme brulee was flung at me by a little bird (perhaps deservedly so) – that landed on my shirt – dangerously close to the pants. I was also threatened by someone who said that they would throw grape soda on me and lastly – Irving Brown Socks was given a bath this weekend.
All potential run enders – that were luckily avoided. That is sometimes how championships are made – whether they be in foosball, jarts or what have you. And some people out there point to luck. Maybe the pants really aren’t that great or whatever. Well – let me tell you Sunday armchair of a loveseat sweatpants wearer – Like a jungle cat – We are focused – We will go out there every day like it is our last day – in pants – and we – will – wear – these – pants.