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

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mixed with bloody feathers from scruff of neck of crow

Good running day today: Made the (uphill) mile out in 16:04 including a pause for street-crossing, and jogged the whole thing except the first two blocks. Walked a half mile around the park in 8:56 (taking my time), stretched for five minutes, and ran the (downhill) mile back in 13:31. I had to drop to a walk for a tenth of a mile breather on the way back, but I made it up at the end, so I still ran 9/10 of the mile, and actually hit a pretty good spot of competence for about a block at the end there. A tenth of a mile of feeling pretty good! That's not to be scoffed at!

It was raining steadily on the way out, broken sun through the overcast on the way back. The dogwoods are in full bloom and the lilacs are starting--didn't those used to be May/June flowers?

Running in the rain is so much easier and nicer than running when it's sunny out. This will improve as the trees along my route leaf out, but for the time being, I need to get out earlier in the morning, dammit.

After Sunday's climbing (sent a 5.4 that was actually more like twenty-five feet of 5.6 and then twenty-five feet of 5.4; flamed out spectacularly fifteen or twenty feet up a 5.7+, flamed out less spectacularly maybe 25 feet up on a 5.6 with a chimney, due to the fact that my toes hurt so much I couldn't put weight on them any more) I came home and slept from 10 pm to 8:30 the next morning, which is unheard of for me.

So I couldn't fall asleep until 1 or 2 last night, and though I did wake up at six this morning, but since I had had a triggery night of hypervigilance and kept waking up every time anybody in the entire apartment building got a drink of water, I decided to pull the cat over my head and go back to sleep for another two hours.

Somebody from Massachusetts recently had a rather spectacular single-car accident where I enter the park. I can tell he was from Massachusetts, because he left his license plate behind. Sadly, he also shattered an old granite curb and took out two or three of the old Victorian neighborhood's beautiful slate paving blocks, which means the broken ones will be replaced with cement eventually. Entropy makes me sad.

Climbing last night was less than spectacular. I managed two 5.6s on the slab (one of them, the last, with a lot of pathetic flail at the top) and a 5.6 on the wall, and quit after that because my tennis elbow (which, in true me fashion, I gave myself while wielding a sledgehammer on my 35th birthday, go me) was acting up. Climbing two days in a row? Still brutal. (You should see the bruises on my knees from wedging my leg into that chimney on Sunday.)

Today's work is varied. I need to finish the final or nearly-final draft of "Overkill," get started on the new Secrit Projekt (tentatively titled, "The Red in the Sky is Our Blood") the opening paragraph of which came to me on my run, do laundry, blurb two things, pay a credit card bill, join the Ragged Mountain Foundation, file some tax paperwork, call my lawyer, email my agent, and make bread. Maybe I will try cvillette's pretzel bread recipe, though I have to buy butter if I am going to do that.

Full day. I guess that means I should get started, huh?
Tags: falling off perfectly good rocks, get out in the park, honeydew, quinnehtukqut, quotidiana

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