So I run and I run and I run and I run and I run.

Tragedy tomorrow. Bingo tonight.

Our second day in Montreal was better than our first. I am so proud of both of these kids, they are patient and strong. Another big walking day. On our first we went to cultural happenings - kinetic art - on our second we visited to great houses of visual art; the Musée des Beaux Arts and also the Basilique Notre-Dame de Montréal.

For their patience (and ours) we were all rewarded to obscenely delicious crêpes. The evening was spent devouring reheated poutine and doing crossword puzzles as a family while a thunderstorm whipped through the city. Timing is everything!

Distance: 6 miles
Duration: 49:15
Avg Pace: 8:12
Route: Martin Point

Yesterday we drove clear from Quebec to Maine in a little over six hours, stopping in Errol, NH for lunch at the Northern Exposure (where they also serve poutine) and everyone listening to the audiobook of Ender's Game.

It is interesting listening to that book, knowing what I do now about the author and his beliefs. It's still a good book and if I didn't read an author's work because of their known bigotry and racism I wouldn't get to perform the works of Shakespeare.

One of the first things that happened last evening was that I slipped two steps and hit the arch of my right foot very hard. Very painful, feels bruised. That was unfortunate.

Temperature: 66°
Climate: warm, humid, bright and beautiful
Intake: banana
Hydration: yes
Water Stop: no
Stretches: yes

First run in the cove. A little bit this way, a little bit that way to make six miles. Supposed to log sixteen on Sunday, father says there was a route he would take, a great loop around Friendship that he liked quite a bit. We'll map that and perhaps I will make it.

I have never taken a run a run outside of Flood's Cove/Martin's Point (except for that one 5K) so that will be an experience.

My foot did not bother me, at least not during the run. It may do so for the rest of the day, but no matter I intend to spend most of it sitting on the porch and reading. Dad just happens to have a book here (The Great Silence by Juliet Nicholson) about that period in Britain I am supposed to currently be writing about.

Emil Cioran once said, "a book is a postponed suicide." Perhaps writing one may be, reading one is just postponed writing.

The stretches. Must work on the stretches.

What's That Lyric?
Running Man - Whomadewho