Ten years sober today. Proof there’s such a thing as grace.
It’s the longest night of the year, and I went for my first Las Vegan run.
Cold running. Twitter might be dying. The Menu was an okay movie. Digital ghosts.
Repetition on a grey November day.
C. and I are trying to determine our best route to Vegas.
Sunset: 6:35pm. Moon: Waning crescent. This morning I went for an ugly jog and accidentally got absorbed into a marathon-in-progress.
The body remembers slowly and forgets very quickly.
They say you never see a cheetah stretch, but maybe I should. My legs always hurt.
We had a pleasant June for a while, but the long mean heat of summer is finally here. Beyond this, I’m losing the plot.
When I flipped on the news around midnight, my concerns about running, writing, teaching, and everything else felt stupid and indulgent.
