Walt Disney World Marathon, Making Outlines, and Cosmic Irony

Cosmic Irony is on the menu so far this year.Cosmic Irony One:
I signed up for Physical Therapy and took the first appointment available which was Thursday. It included doing the Graston Technique on my leg and some electric stimulation procedure that was reminiscent of The Princess Bride torture machine.  Both of these procedures I wanted to hurt more than they did. For some twisted reason, I felt the more it hurt, the more impact it might have. I’ll be back to PT in a few days.
What's the cosmic irony? the day of my first PT was on the same day of the week I was going to travel to Orlando to run the Walt Disney World Marathon.  Marathon weekend is here. At the same time I was driving home from Physical Therapy,  I was supposed to be  taking the Disney shuttle home from the expo, bib in hand.
In a perfect world, one session of PT will heal me, and I will catch a flight early Saturday to Orlando in time to get to the expo before it closes down Saturday evening. Then on Sunday I’ll run the marathon in 15 minute miles through all the parks as they close the roads down behind me. It's a small world after all.But, I don’t expect that to happen. My poor little bib will go unpicked up, and will be in the dark where unpicked up bibs go to die when the marathon starts.
Cosmic Irony two.
I have actually been writing a lot. I have many scraps of stories written. Short stories, part of stories. Sequels. An On the Lips of Children Sequel and Milk-Blood sequel both have been imagined with some rambling pages done. I've also started on countless other projects, but, with apologies to Chuck Wendig who rightly espouses the power to "finish your shit",  I have not finished my shit. I have gone down too many paths with scattered plots.  As I am typing away, throwing all sorts of spaghettis against the wall to see wait sticks, the wet noodles pile on the floor.
Then, on a computer next to me, my daughter plops down. She’s 8. She said she’s writing a book. It’s about a family. As she sits down to write, she did not write a single sentence, but instead worked first on her table of contents. She came up with a title for each chapter, and told me what she was going to have happen. The word document has been saved, and only includes the title of each chapter, numbered, and in a sensical progression.
In other words she wrote a dang outline. How dare she! Doesn’t she know outlines save time, provide direction, organize thoughts, and stop one from drowning in spaghetti noodles?. She mocks me.
Argghhh.
January is the cruelest month.