A run! A monk!

We ran nine miles on Saturday. It was cold. I had yet to run more than four miles this season without being crippled by shin splints. But I kept up with our group. And my shin splints never bothered me once. Though we all apparently had problems not looking goofy in our pictures:

At mile five, though, I really had to pee. I mean really. Like a racehorse. A racehorse that really had to pee. But nobody else did. So I ran ahead to a bathroom, peed as fast as my little bladder would let me, and raced to catch up with the group. But I never ... quite ... made it. So here I am being run in to the finish line a couple minutes after everyone else. But at least I got a keepsake picture out of it. So just try to tell me it's better to finish first:

But once I arrived we all assembled ourselves and we persuaded a stranger to stand 500 feet away from us to take our weekly team picture:

Then we went to brunch at Nookies, which is only the best restaurant in all of Chicago. If you want proof, consider how long we have to wait for a table every time we go there. And then look at all of us freezing outside as we do that waiting:

And then look at all of us as we all notice that we kind of stink:
(Our table of stinky guys is also our table of heavily-ish tattooed guys. Photographic proof to come as the temperatures rise.)

Changing subjects entirely, here are some pictures of me in a monk robe. But it's a fake monk robe, and since I'm being a fake monk, it's not like I'm going to catch on fire for wearing it. I hope. Especially because the robe is a highly flammable blend of polyester, flint and steel. The whole me-in-a-monk-robe thing was for Bad Habits, last month's monk-themed musical by the Chicago Gay Men's Chorus. Here are three of us running amonk (ahem) backstage:

Here I am violating some Levitical law against mixing calling and texting plans in the same cellular phone. Or something like that:

Our set was pretty cool. Unfortunately the only picture I have of it is blocked by one of those good-monk/bad-monk clichés:

I also got to be a fireman in the show. My audition consisted entirely of trying on the uniform. And since it fit me, I got to say two whole lines AND probably be the first man in recorded history to wear a fake monk robe under a real fireman's uniform while singing "What I Did for Love." Unless that bitch Pat Robertson beat me to it. So I guess I'm just the first to admit it publicly. And then not blame monk-fireman-showtune-singers for 9/11. In any case, here's the only picture anyone took of me in the uniform. Notice how much less flaming it makes me look: