"Scientists agree that you are a unique and fascinating specimen, but there are no practical applications for you as yet."

This week's horrorscope from The Onion, my favorite satirical e-journal, tells me: "Scientists agree that you are a unique and fascinating specimen, but there are no practical applications for you as yet."

I'll be damned. Tell me something I haven't been contemplating for years!

I just got back from my first run with Kona since I had a horrible bout of dizzy spells-cum-fatigue-cum-cold-cum bronchitis, and since he broke his leg. Now I have a new passel of specialists to go see, including an endocrinologist (spellcheck my ass, puh-leaaaaze), which variety of doctor I understand is very difficult to track down in less than 2-3 months.

Kona? Is an eight-minute-miler. I? Am not. But together, including a poop-stop and a pee-break (neither for me), we managed under 10. Granted, we only ran one mile, but considering my bronchial area is still full of phlegm (oh, soooo sexy), that's not bad. Today is the best I've felt in . . . oh, I can't remember when.

I have an Oly in about a month. I'm still shooting for it. Definitely the Half Marathon in December. (Although, I've learned not to think or worry too much about tomorrow, because you just never know.) I've had to withdraw from all but one class, and, although I'm a little behind on my assignments (just wait till this weekend! YARRRR!!!), I still have an A. At work, I was somewhat forced into a reduced schedule (they cut my work day by 1 hour each and shifted me in at 10 so that I could make all my doctor's appointments early.) Now, you may say this sounds like a gift from the gods, but I'm skeptical about everything, especially given recent events, and considering I'm supposed to have perfect attendance in exchange for this "accomodation."

Snicker. They don't know me very well, do they? Murphy? Bad Luck Chuck? Queen of Things I Can't Control? The kinda girl who will be on my 10-minute drive to work 30 minutes early and blow a tire and still get there 30 minutes late? I'm finding more humor in it every day, I have to admit - especially since I decided to close the door.

Releasing expectations is . . . weird. I walk into work, for example, or even think about walking into work, and I wonder, how am I supposed to feel? Act? Then I realize that I'm just supposed to roll with it. And that kinda puts a smile on its face all on its own. I can't remember the last time I was as mentally and physically ill as I was this past week/end. All of my girls were out of town and I was in a rough spot - too sick to move and no one to call. It really made me re-evaluate my expectations of weekends as these jam-packed, homework-stuffed, socially-overwhelming, training-focused demons and see them more like giant, sad, empty mansions that have been left too long without butlers. And then, a few phone calls from some of my guy friends during the first part of the week, and I was in significantly better spirits.

I realized today, after these observations and after my observations about absences at work, that we completely understimate our influence on the lives of others.

Oh, and uh . . . don't think you're not supposed to still be expecting great things from me . . . I just don't have anything specific for you.

Yet.