Still sick. No lungs, constant coughing. I have to sleep downstairs so everyone else can get some rest. At least when I run I lose the cough reflex.
Had a night run. A quarter mile into it I felt something stabbing my foot, so I returned home and tried to get it out with a pair of pliers, something in the sole. I poked holes through the upper fabric and tried to tweez it out. No luck. It was embedded up almost at my big toe. My tongue is sewn into the shoe in such a way i couldn’t peel the shoe open to get a close look or good leverage. Finally I started digging at it with my fingers and managed to dislodge it, cut my hand. It was like being stabbed with a diabetic lancet. Screw it.
I ran the river flats, got chased by some Juggalos from a houseparty. It was big, spilling out onto the street from a house in a rough neighborhood. I heard people yelling about me “running through their party” and then, unbelievably, footsteps approaching, like three people. I didn’t turn around. They sped up, I sped up. They didn’t last two blocks.
Less Faygo, more belt!
Unbelievably, a couple were calling me the N-word. I’m white. The rest of the run was decent. I got a boost outrunning those hooligans. The moon was out and nearly full, my old friend.
Tired, head splitting. I keep squirting saline up into my nostrils from a squeeze bottle. I know it’s supposed to help, but really, I just miss the beach. I got six miles in total, sixty-four for the month.