• Wednesday, July 27, 2011
  • 0
Self portrait on six

Sometimes you don't feel like running. I shrug off the apathy like a tramps blanket and run. I smash through the first three miles and attack two decent climbs with a ferocity that surprises me. I think this is how it must feel for the elites, I am fast (for me) and strong. I soar. After 3.5 miles I have to stop, the sole of my Vibrams has been pierced by a thin shard of metal, I pluck it out and hope it is not the tip of a needle. Resuming my pace is easier but my run still sublime. When I get home I stretch out and lie on the upstairs landing and meditate. My meditation leads me to the garden where I rehydrate with a glass of sweet white wine. Love running.

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