Waking up one weekend morning with a headache is a tragedy, but two smacks of carelessness. It's not fair, excuse me for whining, but there was an awful lot of potential in this weekend and I have had little chance to scratch any of it.
I chalk it up to too little sleep and that damn comforter. I hate being cold, or even cool, but during these transitional months is is necessary for me to sleep as chilly as possible or I begin hibernating. Like a bear. Waking up is like swimming upstream through mucous, fog and dirt.
I struggled through the morning, taking an eventual nap ... and then a run. Finally. A run. And finally I was able to clear my head - the true definition of the word brisk, this run. Lawnmowers, campaign signs, foreclosed houses being restored ...
This year began with a great deal of uncertainty and fear, and I am just talking about here at home. Work, school, community, home and art were all in flux. The solid bond of my marriage and relationship with my children was about all I knew were not going to shift beneath my feet. Moving through my community, which nine months ago seemed on the verge of collapse, along with everything else, alive with activity, with repair and maintenance, having at long last a personal connection with so many of them I had never even seen let alone met before.
It's not Thanksgiving yet. But it feels like it. And right I am so thankful my head doesn't hurt.
Listening to: PODRUNNER Classic - Going Concerns (164 BPM)
Distance: 3.25 miles
Temperature: 47º
Weather: as I say, brisk
Weight: 158 lbs.
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