I blame you, SNL.

My favorite sketches on Saturday Night Live are those parodying the game show Jeopardy with Will Ferrell as Alex Trebek and Darrell Hammond as Sean Connery. The utter vindictiveness and willful stupidity portrayed in those sketches never fails to make me laugh, and I love how Sean Connery always manages to misread a category, turning it into something awful. Having said that, one night, the category was “Let it Snow”. Sean Connery, being the asshole that he is, reads the category as “Le Tits Now”. Because of this sketch, I can never see or hear “Let it Snow,” or even walk through a winter wonderland without thinking, “Le Tits Now”. Thank you for that, SNL.

I’m currently in the middle of another winter storm, and I’ve spent a good hour texting with my employees trying to decide whether or not to open tomorrow. I’m not expecting much business, but these days, every little bit counts. The worst part is that I live thirty-five minutes away, so the driving for me can be somewhat hazardous in winter. And it’s not even driving on the roads themselves (though I’ll admit, ice packed or snow covered roads are not my favorite), it’s the idiots who think they’re invincible and drive without any sense of safety for themselves or for the people around them. The ones who creep up behind me, get pissy when I’m not going ten miles over the speed limit, and then pass me while I’m just thinking, “Please, don’t kill us both.” They’re the reason I hate driving in winter. Them and the ice.

Forecasters have been predicting this storm all week, and I’ve had trouble sleeping with the anxiety caused by the anticipation of having to deal with winter. It’s been a great excuse to sleep in instead of getting up and maybe going on a long walk with the dog. Well, not great, but it’s been an excuse, and excuses are just so easy to come by. Being a business owner, I can really take advantage of that to let myself off the hook for a lot of things. The excuses may not necessarily be real, but they do come in handy. Time for that to stop, I suppose. If I make it through tomorrow, I’ve got one day off before returning to work, and my goals for that day include laundry, actually getting on the treadmill since the snow and the wind and the crazy low temperatures are not going to make it feasible to walk outside, working on my confidence journal, beginning my training journal, and meal planning (not prep, mind you, just making sure I have the right kinds of foods around the house so I’m not tempted to search out the wrong kinds). One day to get my shit together for next week. The beginning. Week one.

If you read Day 1 (I honestly don’t know what else to call it–I wish this thing were formatted more like a book. Who wants to come in right in the middle of anything?), you’ll recall I’m supposed to start marathon training on Tuesday. I’m kind of looking forward to it? I know it’s not much to start, and I’m okay with that. I can’t do a whole lot right now and it’s been months since I last attempted to run. I had to hunt for my poor Garmin, which was shoved deep in a bag in a corner of my desk, the battery completely dead. I’m happy it charged. Now I just have to remember how to work it. I once spent two minutes trying to save a run and just kept starting and stopping it over and over again because I forgot the watch had a touchscreen. Not one of my finer moments.

Maybe some of my winter anxiety can be written up to training anxiety. There’s always that fear of failure. I have to remember it’s actually okay if I can’t run a full marathon by the end of June. That’s when my challenge training starts, and my marathon training is supposed to help get me in shape for that. Still, it would be nice to know I can actually get through one before devoting myself to four days of running hell. But that’s not something to worry about right now. Right now, my immediate worries are centered around what the weather conditions will be like tomorrow and if I’ll be able to drive to and from work without sliding off the road.

Le tits now, le tits now, le tits now. (Damn you, SNL.)