I ran 4.32 miles. Meh. I spent the previous night on the couch, coughing until I saw blacklight paisleys swirling behind my eyelids. Maybe slept an hour. I rolled down into town like a bag of hot mud, aped the river, the only place I can find flat roads. Highlight: I got some action outside the converted Croatian Benevolence Society building, now a gym, when a very small, wiry terrier left a young woman assuming the text-fu position with a phone, her curbside sitting companion, to pace and chase me, yapping furiously. The woman ordered it to return to her, but it wouldn’t. I stopped, enticed it to come smell my hand. I think that’s proper dog etiquette. It wagged its tail and skittered back to its human. The return home was uneventful, if peaceful.
I have taken my baby on long walks every day to prepare him for a hardcore, crowded 5K on the 21st in celebration of the summer solstice. That will be a busy day. I might be dropping and adding a goal this month. I’ve got a job that morning. I’ll bike 14 miles, take pics of a historic site at dawn, then race 18 miles by bike to a 5K, grab the baby and stroller, push him through the race, then have a heaping comp breakfast. It’s a spectacular run for the area. I placed in my age division last year, hag-ridden with allergies just like this year. I’ll be forced to wear a Mexican wrestling mask, a too-small shirt, my brightest shoes. The prophesy will be revealed.
I’m feeling a bit fagged and shagged. I need the rest I cannot have, so the mileage is dialed down. That’s okay. Running as healthy as I can is a pleasure. But with the mask, I shall have the power of eagle. I’m so excited. It arrived from Mexico in a plain brown envelope with nothing else.
Here is a ridiculously long, poorly stitched panorama of my town.
Fifty State Banana 