I know he’s a wife-beater and that ain’t cool, but I just can’t get enough of Chris Brown’s song, Forever. I don’t know why. It’s something about the cheezeball lyrics and old school keyboard and happy “Woman, I love you, and I can’t wait to come home and batter your sweet ass until you look like bruised fruit” melody that really gets me going on a long run. When I hear the opening notes and that “1, 2, 3, 4!” I often throw my hands in the air and double my pace. “It’s like I waited my whole life, for this one night…” – it’s crack for my quads. What can I say? Forever is my Chariots of Fire.

Glorious Morning Glories!

Why am I talking about this? Well, because today I went for an extremely hot, ridiculously thirsty, and absurdly wet run. It was one of those runs where you can actually wring out your shirt with your own sweat. I know. Stop. Ixnay on the details. You can’t take anymore, because it’s just too sexy.

For reasons I cannot explain, it almost instantly occurred to me that I could climb over the hill, jump onto their roof, and go in through one of those windows. I have no further comment on my apparent latent cat burglar tendencies.

Anyway, my point here was not about the copious sweat or Chris Brown’s infectious poppy nonsense so much as the fact that it was a rather long (seven miles? eight? It took an hour and a half, so I hope I at least went that far) run and I nearly died of dehydration but I remembered to bring my camera. (!) That single gesture instantly elevated the hour and a half adventure from semi-grueling exercise to fantabulous photo safari!

Cool, furry, fuzzy caterpillar-ish plant thing! (a.k.a. Chenille plant; a.k.a. Acalypha hispida)

Moreover, I figure you’re still coming down from the contact high with the shameless excess of the pornographic beach scenes the other day, so I’ll give you a break and show you the softer, come-hither side of Bermuda. You can thank me by buying me a beer already, moochers. Oh, and beer at the grocery store is like $2.50 a pop here, so don’t be stingy!!!

Me on my running safari, looking thirsty for beer, but less horrible than you'd think (or less so than I expected, anyway.)

There is a tunnel on my run, and it defies what I thought was a given for all tunnels: it does NOT reek of human urine!!! Color me impressed.

Damn, I'm good. This picture makes me happy.

Party time.

Unrelated to this photo, my ass is starting to ache. Oh, and did you read that thing about the guy who bought (what turned out to be) Ansel Adams negatives for $40 at a garage sale and they're worth $200,000,000!?!? I hate garage sales, but maybe I need to rethink that position?

A little blue water just to prove it's still Bermuda.