it's a great life, if you don't weaken (matociquala) wrote,
it's a great life, if you don't weaken
matociquala

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you taste like tear stains and could have beens but I love a good train wreck.

The crocuses are over. The hyacinths have begun.

Highlights of this morning's run brought a guy using an atlatl to play fetch with his golden retriever at the dog park. I kind of sucked today: I ran the first 8/10s of a mile and walked the other 2/10s (in 16:16 despite a long wait for traffic at one point, and quitting a block short of goal because my calves and arches hurt a lot--the first half of the route is uphill, which is one reason why it's generally slower) and then I added a half-mile loop around the playground, which I walked in 9:01, but I wasn't pushing hard. Stretched for five minutes, and I mean to do intervals for the mile back, but I wound up only doing two, because my arches, calves, and hips hurt so much. Still made it in 17 minutes, though.

Sometimes, there is a time to respect what your 36 1/2 year old body is telling you. And sometimes what it is telling you is "Now cut that out."

215.2 miles to Lothlorien. In Middle Earth, it's very early on the morning of Jan 9. Soon Gandalf and Frodo will notice a low-flying Nazgul.

I am still showing no signs of regrowing anything like a brain, though I am thoroughly bored. (I never know what to do with myself when I'm not writing. It ennui seems to be a necessary part of the creative process, however: out of fallow time, things grow.)

And now I have to pack for Penguicon, and tomorrow's semi-epic drive.
Tags: get out in the park, the horrors of self-discipline, walking to mordor bakson
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