missed writing last night,
aging makes the nights hard,
working all day,
talking to the computer,

why is it our fault when the kids check out?
when they don’t particpate, get out of bed??

this morning i woke to rain,
the condition i hate running in the most,
so i did it anyway, going jocko and goggins,
no excuses, get it done

why are the things we hate so important to do?
For reslilience, to show we’re still human..

being with friends was good,
the rain warm, cleansing, a perfect start to this year
more nature than virtual
more man, less machine.

#1

How many miles left
About three hundred and some
Will my legs survive

#2

Miles keep adding up
Each day chips away some more
Chunks of time are gone

#3

Smiles are the reward
No money, no trophy, only pride
Just doing is enough

The whole day was a meditation.
An early Sunday run, breath in control,
Pace just right, company entertaining as always.
A haircut just as the shop opened,
Eyes closed after the stylist said, “Trust me.”
Eyes opening to freedom, no more gel, wonderful.
Easy lunch, a restorative nap, exciting professional golf,
Dream sequences and a chill real meditation,
Waves of relaxation and sounds of the beach,
Perfect.

After about five months of Saturdays,
I got back to a sort of normal routine.
Lesson plans are beckoning,
It seems they don’t write themselves.

Rain was dominating the forecast,
Remnants of the awful hurricane we pass through
So I took a virtual dive into the digital divide
And made some progress on this new way of teaching.

I’m not exactly happy about it, but
Things are requiring a new attitude, and
When I think about the opportunity, I’m thankful, so
Sitting on a rainy Saturday writing plans isn’t that bad.

Getting some of it done came early,
The rain left, but the humidity stayed,
The treadmill called and I ran work away
With a YouTube run on Venice Beach.

One word, one word can change a dynamic,
One lousy word.

This humidity made our run feel like a shower,
Heavy legs made walking tempting.
We all talked, taking it easy through the soup
When I casually threw out a joke.

“We should sprint down the hill.”
Sprint was the lousy word.

Only one in the group called my bluff.
Of course it he was the fastest of our group
Maybe more than two minutes per mile faster than me,
Check that, more.

“Okay!”
And off we went.

It was supposed to only be down the hill,
But the greyhound decided to push it around the pond.
Towards the end, my lungs were aching, my form lost,
His brow nearly dry.

I’ll never use that word, again.
Sprint.

Ninety seconds, just a minute and a half,
That’s it, two-tenths of a mile,
Up a short hill, back down,
Ninety seconds.

Ten reps, up and back,
One minute to rest,
Then running, again
Heart and lungs supporting legs

Forty, recovery heart beats,
The pounding during the rest quickly calming down
Breathing not labored
Ready for the next attempt.

I loved it.

It’s funny, at least to me,
One day when I burned dirty fuel on a run,
Early school year frustration leaves a big carbon footprint,
The next day, when the pallet is deemed clean
The purest energy left me dragging on the trails.

And it was great,
Even with the mosquitos, gnats, whatever other bugs,
With the ruts worn in the trail from the heavy rains,
The loose rocks and bulging roots, all trying to trip me,
So much better than running angry.

There were moments when my lungs couldn’t take in air,
When my legs felt like they weren’t attached,
My thoughts drifted and I lost my sense of self
Pausing a moment to talk to some guy,
His t-shirt said, “Star Wars 1977.”

I was there then, stuck in line forever,
My parents looking out for us in the Newmarket Mall
Long before Disney would hoard the movie,
But that has nothing to do with this run,
Other than the joy I felt after waiting two hours for tickets.

I’ll make it back to this new trail again,
Hopefully, the humidity will be a lot lower then,
I can’t wait to hit it after a freeze
After the bugs are gone, the rocks are frozen to the ground, and
I back on track with trail running.

A meeting is excellent motivation. Humidity was approaching 100%, My desire to run outside was lacking. Along came Zoom and off I went. My feet were tapping a newfound beat, My mind was writing an untyped memo, My lungs sifted through the tropical chum, And before I knew it, the run was done. The wreckage of the meeting was still there, of course, But I preferred to rest in the high of the run, To ignore our lack of foresight, To bask in the ache of physicality.