Fog in the valley. It’s the first of August, there is a winter chill behind the rain blowing gentle across the deck. Fall is not far off now, the years add up. I am missing absent friends.
August 2, 2010
Another foggy, cold rainy morning. San Francisco summer here in Eugene. Feels like home. The end of things as they have been. What’s next? A long run for me, several miles down and around, a stop at the gym and up the mile hill to home. Stronger. Sadder. More alive. If it don’t kill ya it makes you stronger, but damn, this shit can wear a guy out.
August 5, 2010
It’s hot and getting hotter…soon summer will become a state of emergency; folks will tell you the usual rules don’t apply. Don’t believe it …it won’t end well. This I know to be true. So do William Hurt and that no-good Kathleen Turner.
August 6, 2010
When Tony Soprano says it’s not personal it is likely true…mostly on account of the flotilla of personal disconnects in the man’s (character’s) emotional structure. When a friend says it’s not personal, it is important to note that one’s anger and all the rest is verifiable, distressing and is, well, personal. But then again, Tony would say, “Whaddaya gonna do?” with a shrug. Indeed.
August 7, 2010
They say it’s my birthday…comes around whether I’m happy or not. Thought too much last night about how things change. Ran my best run in a year this morning. Feeling. Everything. Eyes clear — check — heart heavy — check — muscles remembering what they do best — check — lungs working — check — pain free —check —running into the sunrise, flattening the long hill home — check. 6.4 miles. Keep on keepin’ on, he said. Check.
“Columbine in Storm 2″ petermankato @ flickr.com. Creative Commons. Some Rights Reserved.
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