"Get Your Mind Straight"

The incessant rain and wind, a jammed index finger suffered while punching a jackass in the head during the swim, my horrible stomach problems, the crazy gal who cut me off on the bike, the fact that I had a rough week at work, my slight cough, the lousy hotel, the disgusting pasta dinner — sure, they all had happened, but I refuse to use them as excuses for my DNF at Ironman Amazon Rainforest. Nope, no excuses. I had kneeled at the altar of the Ironman gods and they had simply refused my finest offering. There would be other races, other years, other decades of training.

My highly successful failed attempt to finish the race still was running through my mind when, while loading up on fresh spinach, I accidentally bumped into a stocker at my local supermarket as he was stacking Campbell's soup cans. He must've sensed the dark cloud hanging over me and guessed that trouble was brewing within the X-Man.

"Get your mind straight, son" was his simple advice.

I paused and shot him an icy glare. How dare he attempt to look inside my mind when in fact he had probably never even read my blog? How could he even pretend to know?

"Get your aisle straight, pops."