January 12th and 13th: A Wild Waiver, Wicked Weather

It’s only 2% and it could snow tonight. It was supposed to snow yesterday, after the rain had turned to sleet and coated everything with a glaze of smooth clear ice. It was pretty scary. My kid fell down as soon as he went outside yesterday morning to catch the bus. I stayed inside and did some stretching, pull-ups, push-ups, core work. Having sprained both a knee and my hip during the past year has made me rethink my bulletproof status. Plus no insurance. That’s still unraveling like an old wadded wet newspaper.

Anyways, day before yesterday (12th), I gots some living room shenanigans. Had a job interview. Bad fucking deal. Next day tried to shake it off and move forward. Black ice everywhere. Not running in that shit. Did some push-ups. In lieu of running in decent weather, I give you a crafted race waiver for a medical marijuana 5K race I directed. As far as i know, it was the country’s first, the High Five K, in 2012 in Star City, West Virginia.

Race Waiver – Release of Liability

I know that running a road/trail race is a potentially hazardous activity, which could cause injury or death.  I should not enter and run unless I am medically able and properly trained.  I agree to abide by any decision of a race official relative to any aspect of my participation in this event, including the right of the official to deny or suspend my participation for any reason whatsoever.

I assume all risks associated with running in this event, including, but not limited to, falls, contacts with other participants, the effects of the weather, including high heat and/or humidity, conditions of the trails/roads, all such risks being known and appreciated by me.  Having read this waiver and knowing these facts and in consideration of your accepting my entry, I, for myself and anyone entitled to act in my behalf, waive and release Joseph Phillips, High Five K, Star City, Morgantown, BOPARC,  Arts & Park Department, the County of Person, and all sponsors, their representatives, any other persons assisting with the race, and their successors from all claims or liabilities of any kind or demands arising out of my participation in the race even though the liability that may arise out of negligence or carelessness on the part of the persons named in this waiver. And that, even though I might die and leave my family bereft, might show up drunk and crazed at the starting line with bits of singed couch still clinging to my Cheetohs orange face and hands, wearing a PBR 6-pack ring as a bracelet, with a mustache drawn on my face, against the better wishes of sound medical advice, I choose to take my life in my hands and roll up on this event like Leviathan, ancient, unmoved, deeply mysterious and not safe in any sane person’s home or place of work, unmoved by the rational, t filled with a spectral assurance that this, my friends, this was The Day of Reckoning.

I grant permission to all of the foregoing to use any photographs, motion pictures, recordings, or any other record of this for any legitimate purpose. I do not hold YouTube, StumbleUpon, Tumblr, Twitter, IHeartChaos, Reddit, BoingBoing, or any other website or business liable for any damages if someone posts a video of me falling on the ice or bitching about the cookies being frozen and the coffee tasting like pencil lead because I walked the last half of the race.

I understand that if the race cannot be held on January 28th  due to circumstances beyond the control of the race committee and sponsors, including, but not limited to, unsafe weather conditions or governmental ban, trees falling all over the place, OWS taking over the fifth to seventh mile of the Mon River trail south of Pennsylvania and demanding to see runners’ tax returns and causing me to flee in due haste, the race will be cancelled and will not be rescheduled for another date this year.  Since the majority of event costs (entry forms, tasty bananas, advertising, etc.) occur prior to the race, my entry fee will not be refunded.  However, t-shirt orders will be honored. (T-shirt should be picked up by race day, but if I’m nice, I understand the race director Joseph Phillips will try to get me another one later, and, in order to get it at a discount rate, I understand and am totally cool with knowing I may be required to dance like the dubstep dude in the Foster the Children’s “Pumped Up Kicks” video and if I do the tip-toe freeze that guy pulled – seriously, that’s not possible – for Joseph Phillips, the very demanding and needful Race Director, I get a dollar off the price.) And I agree to refrain from feeding the geese too much so the place doesn’t look like a Jackson Pollack painting after I’m gone.

Hoping to run today. I just have a lot of loose ends right now, many things more important than running around. Cash flow, back to the gritty. Excuses. If I had any friends I could get someone to watch my baby for 45 minutes so I could jog the neighborhood. Up at four AM working on a book because I can’t sleep, my body is running on some sort of dream sugar, on a plan it’s not revealing to me completely. I feel commanded, schizo, enchanted, compelled, rented, a shell with music knocking around inside from some distant sea, the lees of the body washing ashore in my groggy mind, a castaway in this moment, but it’s not mine. I’m gone.

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