Brightroom, Frightroom

WTF, Brightroom?  Now that running is no longer consuming my life, I am filling my days with obsessively perusing the interwebs.  My most visited site is www.brightroom.com as I NEED to view my photos of the Buffalo Marathon.  I have a theory, see, and it goes like this: My epic failure was not the fault of my own weak character, but rather the result of some mysterious phenomena that will be made visible only through the wonders of modern photography.    Like, maybe there was this enormous 300 pound boat anchor that was tied to my left ankle and I dragged that fucker for MILES unbeknownst to me or to my fellow runners.  Or maybe, just maybe, there was a river of thick molasses that flowed only in my path, or perhaps my sneakers were not sneakers at all but were actually hollowed out watermelons packed to capacity with hungry ferrets.  It could happen, people.   And when those indolent photographers get off their lazy duffs, the world will clearly see the watermelon foot gear, the sticky knee-high molasses river, and that barnacle covered anchor and they will say, “Ahhh!  Poor Running Moose. ”

I will feel immediately vindicated, so much so that I might actually consider running again.  But only if my sneakers are ferret feces-free.