Nothing is impossible

Nothing in life is certain, except death, taxes, and that I will get injured and/or sick if I decide to enter a race.

A mild case of the cold established itself within my right nostril last Saturday and is currently running amok inside my head. Because of course it would. I was finally supposed to be running my first ”Around the bridges” race for the year tomorrow, what did you expect?

Yes, it could happen that I wake up completely healthy tomorrow. It could happen. Just like it could happen that a stranger stops me while I'm walking down the street and just hands me over ten million crowns, no questions asked, or that my cats suddenly get up from their mid-morning siesta and start singing a moving a cappella rendition of the Peruvian national anthem (or is that "a cattella"?).

It could happen. The universe is a wondrous place, filled with mystery and miracles. Like the fact that intelligent life developed on this planet, or that there are actually people who camp outside stores the night before a big sale starts and then trample each other to death just so that they can buy a cheaper TV made by prepubescent slaves in some Asian country they've never even heard of.

I realise that these two miracle examples contradict each other. There is intelligent life on this planet, I promise. I saw it on my cheap TV once.

ANYWAY. It could happen. It's just not very likely.

Running at max speed while ill would naturally be catastrophically stupid and dangerous, so I will once again miss the race (last week I missed it because of work, if you recall), but I might show up anyway and plod around the course at snail pace just to get a whiff of that second-hand adrenalin.