I recently read in a scientific journal that theoretically, runners using too many gadgets could cause a meshing of the electrical fields with that of the human body, leading to a separate consciousness forming and taking over.

Theory has become reality. Amy Smet DePaolo, a runner living in Spokane, Washington, has become the first known victim. On an evening run, she had a smart phone on one arm, a heart rate monitor on the other, an ipod, two GPS units on her wrist, and a head lamp.

Amy Smet DePaolo Before Takeover

By week’s end, a doctor’s visit confirmed what her family was seeing. Amy was becoming a multi-purpose, electrical device made of human tissue. Her eyes were changing into a digital scanner. Her internal organs were morphing into a motherboard. Two fingers were forming into prongs to plug into outlets.

When she overheard her family planning to short her out to stop the conversion, she fled. Her husband, Toby, now raising their young son alone, tearfully says attempts to get her back have failed.

“She’s too sophisticated. She’s very adept at getting around because her internal bio-GPS unit is amazing. She downloads real-time satellite imagery constantly, so she always knows who’s nearby. “

Toby sees little chance he’ll ever get the old Amy back. However, he’s investigating having his own conversion. “I’m sure Amy would come around if I became a bio-electrical unit too. If I could turn digital and be managed by AI software, oh, how our circuits would hum.”

Usually I don’t include tree-climbing in my workouts. However, yesterday, I was wearing my lightest, nylon cape and running along at a pretty good clip when a big gust of wind hit. My cape blew into a tree. It was just out of reach, so I had to climb the tree.

As I was wondering if the branch I needed to walk on was strong enough to hold me, I saw Petra running. As she passed by, I said in my best computer-generated voice, “Speed limit 25. Slow down immediately.”

She stopped and looked around. It took her a couple seconds to spot me in the tree. “What are you doing?” she laughed, coming over.

I explained the situation, and asked if she knew of a reputable cape retrieval company. She said she didn’t, but knew of an ambulance service that responds quickly to tree-climbing accidents.

I got my cape and climbed down.

“You know what’s weird,” Petra said. “You’re the third person I’ve seen in a tree during my run today.”

“The first two must have been kids,” I said.

“No, they were adults. But they weren’t trying to get something like you.”

“That is odd,” I replied.

“I agree. Anyway, have fun on the rest of your run, Jim. Hope that cape stays on,” Petra said.

“Thanks, me too.” I put my hand out and we shook. Our grasp lasted longer than a normal handshake. Then my hand slid slowly past hers until we ended with a fingertip grasp. Her Wonderfulness began running and I just stood there watching. Halfway down the block, she glanced back. I didn’t even care that she caught me staring hypnotically. I gave her a wave.

I am so moved by her. To be at her side would be the greatest thing to happen to me.

Those really white legs shielded from sun since last year, which are now causing eye damage, were out in profusion last night at my running club’s 4.4-miler. A couple guys let me snap a photo of their legs, but their case is pretty mild compared to others. But it was white legs that got me realizing I’ve undergone a transformation.

It has been gradual and slow, but I’ve become around 50-55% female.

Besides sucking the color out of skin, winter sucks the moisture too. I used to never hydrate my skin, but now after showering, I do my legs, face and elbows without fail, in winter and summer. When I was married, I gently chided my wife about all the bottles of creams and lotions she had. Now I’m the one with a cupboard full of stuff.

My hair used to be so oily, I could wring it over a pan and use the oil for frying. Now my hair’s so dry, I have to use conditioner. and styling gel. I spend so much time in the bathroom that by definition, I’ve become a woman.

At least I long ago gave up one thing that most guys used back in the day – the blow-dryer.

My friend, I.P. Aard, who works at the National Institute of Running Sciences, was at a conference in Seattle last weekend. She rearranged her return flight to spend a night in Spokane. It always makes me feel good when women go out of their way to spend time with me.

I never met I.P. in person, but we’ve talked on the phone a lot, and I’ve watched videos of her presenting at seminars. She’s considered a top expert in her field even though she’s only 33. She is very familiar with my work. She told me she was in the audience at a two-hour seminar I gave a year ago to a packed house in Denver demonstrating techniques to avoid getting hit by bird poop while running.

We went for a run in the morning with friends, and I snapped a picture of her, at right, afterward. I spent the rest of the day showing her around Spokane. In the evening, we hung out at my place, and watched the new romantic video, “I’ll Meet You at the Beach for an Interval Workout.”

“So, I.P., why do you go by your initials instead of first name?” I asked as we shared a Popsicle.

“People I met had a hard time remembering Isabella. When I discovered I.P. Aard is so similar to “I PR’ed”, I thought, I’m a runner—perfect. I’m going with that.”

“I’ve always wondered what’s going on with people’s names at the Institute,” I said. “Last week I was talking to Ayer, and he swears that’s his real name.”

“Ayer O’Beck? Why would you doubt it?”

“Come on, I.P. Ayer O’Beck? Aerobic?”

“You’re right. I never thought of that.” I.P. took the Popsicle from me and ate the last bit. “So, where am I sleeping tonight?”

“I have a spare bedroom across the hall from mine.”

I.P. sat back and folded her arms. “Spare bedroom….is that my only option?”

Last Thursday was the first day this year warm enough to wear a short sleeve shirt to the Flying Irish run. The largest social running group in the United States, with thousands of members, several hundred show up every Thursday at 6:00 for a 3 to 4 mile run.

Members above are enjoying a beer and socializing. but it wasn’t always like this. When the Flying Irish first formed, it was decided the post-run activity should be a philanthropic one benefiting the community. This led to some late nights and demanding workloads. Below is a history of the Flying Irish’s activities:

• Mar. 2006 to Aug. 2008 – Members repaired, washed, and ironed donated running outfits for needy runners.
• Sept. 2008 to Sept. 2010- Tired of spending so much time refurbishing old running clothes, the Flying Irish began performing at events with a routine of marching in formation, flag-twirling, and synchronized leaps and spins.
• Sept. 2010 to Oct. 2010- Long nights of practices wore everyone out. A less demanding service—a homework help center for elementary students was started. This ultimately failed as students and Flying Irish tutors got so bored, there was more sleeping than studying.
• Oct. 2010 – Fed up members said, “Let’s just do something fun.” The change to post-run beer drinking and socializing led to increased enjoyment.

As I’ve mentioned, I was troubled after discovering the woman I’m so enthralled by, Her Wonderfulness, Petra, has a boyfriend. I’m glad my friend at the National Institute of Running Sciences, I.P. Aard, is flying in for a visit. I’m hoping she’ll help me out of my funk.

At the Manito Runners Club on Saturday, Petra showed up for the third week in a row. I talked very little to her, but as usual, she was extremely popular with the other guys.

After the post-run coffee, I went to the counter to return my cup and glanced back just as Petra exited. She looked back and in the meeting of our eyes, there was instant mutual happiness and interest. I’ve never had such an emotional impact with a simple exchange of glances. While driving home, I was amazed at the sudden turn in my mood. I was so happy.