Trichotillomania, Alzheimer's and a touch of Hypochondria

These are just a few of the problems that I suffer with on a daily basis. Let's not even get into the mild dementia, paralysis, and extreme anthropomorphism that rules my entire existence. Mental illness: You name it, I got it. Unfortunately, they just don't seem to make the right pills to deal with all of the symptoms simultaneously.
But I digress. That's because I suffer from severe ADD.
In the past month or so, SSMG and I have run three races - a 10-mile trail race in Blue Hills mountains (Mountains? Where?), a 7-ish mile race in Woodstock, VT (the one that SSMG "won" last year) and this past weekend, a 1/2 marathon in Hyannis. I just want to say that since SSMG has started running over a year ago today, he's become Speedy Gonzales (who IS Speedy Gonzales anyway? Does anyone know him?) and has done remarkably well in all of these races - front of the pack with the fast boys. I, on the other hand, continue to get slower and slower. Good for him. I'm really happy for his success.
We went to the batting cages on the cape - me, convinced that if SSMG saw me hit a softball, he would gain a newfound respect for my obviously underrated athleticism. Well that didn't happen. He hit harder and longer than I.
We went to the driving range. He hit that f*&ing golf ball faster and longer than I.
We drank beer. He drank more and faster than I.
And we ran the 1/2 marathon. He finished almost 1/2 hour before me.
I blame the blood red blister on my right foot and the annoying old guy behind me who I COULDN'T lose despite me having let him pass about 5 times. He shuffled, and the noise of his shoes on the pavement drove me so insane I nearly punched him. Though, that might not have done anything since he was wearing clear, chemistry-like goggles. ???? Sweaty, old, smelly geezer. It's all his fault that almost everyone passed me and I ended up close to the back of the pack with all the, what we call in the fitness industry, deconditioned (i.e. fat) people.
Well, that's where I belong since I've become Sam. I lie around and look anxious, just like Sam, and wait to be fed. When given a treat, I guard it with my life - I simply will NOT share - and I pull on my hair, a habit which Sam evidently discovered this weekend while we were away. He lost a ton of his fur, we think, over anxiety at having a new dogsitter sleeping in the house. He and I have become the same, ahem, person.
Today is the first day of my summer vacation. I've quit all of my jobs because I can't be successful at any of them, and I'm taking a few months to collect my self-esteem and find a real job that actually pays me money and provides health insurance. What???? Well, I'll do this only after I've napped sufficiently because after all, that's what I do best.
Bubble on friends.