The mornings have lost the summer’s early rays. We ran through the humidity joking that the Suck Level was in full effect. Some in our group were out for the long haul, some going easy to protect against recurring injuries, and I was confused after a night of light sleep. Instead of sticking with the crew, I turned and headed off alone. The normal chatter that rages in my head must have stayed in bed because all I heard was the rhythm of my breathing, the softness of my feet hitting the ground, and the occasional walnut falling in the woods. The air was cool at the bottom of hills, a welcome relief from the humid mushroom soil infused air at the top of the hills.

I cruised letting gravity and friction cooperate to get me around the way. Every run should be so peaceful. Every day should have such a start.

They do.

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Fifteen.
Kind of easy today.
The hot pad on my hip calls,
“Shenanigans.”
I don’t mind,
Therapeutic trash talk being good for the soul.
Back at it tomorrow.

Things get away in a busy week.
Hustle dominates.
Rest ramps up.
Darkness comes earlier.
Writing gets pushed aside.
Somehow there’s still a president,
Baseball is still playing, and
Hockey, which just finished,
Will soon be back on the ice for real,
Or as the kids say, “Frrreal.”
Maybe things will slow down soon.
Maybe not.

Perhaps a heating pad is not enough.
Maybe two-thirds majority, either.
Not sure of the connection,
But whether I’m warm enough
Or freed from this political apocalypse
I’m fairly sure things wont change much.

So I’ll keep running
And I’ll keep voting
Because as hard as the miles are
Not having a say is worse.
Soon enough my quads won’t hurt,
Hopefully, America will wake up just as quickly.

The other day another youthful fantasy
Got destroyed
When a sitcom siren was reportedly involved
In a naked knife-wielding domestic dispute.

Not sure who was supposed to be naked,
But either way,
It kind of killed the memory
Of what she brought to the table.

So with the gossipy news
Taking away the salacious thoughts
I was left with morning conversations
With the coolest old heads I know.

We ran through the dark,
Comparing food choices
That increasing include fewer bouts with sugar
And greater experimentation with lifestyle changes.

When cruised into the morning
Listening to a hoodied meathead
Grunt over creaking knees
As they provided a porn soundtrack to simple leg extensions.

We gathered at the watering hole
A table at the Y where swill coffee goes down
Better than the reality of whatever happens
During a shutdown week.

Farts on planes,
Attempts to move the burning air,
Recirculating an old friend’s Army story of
Clearing back blast areas.

Just another Friday with my mates…