Got a Jim Harrison poetry collection in from inter-library loan,
Robert told me, as I started at him, that his brother may be getting a new gun.
His range gun (Robert's) is a sig. He shot about 50 rounds yesterday with the 9mm,
then shot about 30 with his .38.
A good gun. Fun. You could shoot it one armed.
His lead bullets are very accurate.
Ran over 5 miles yesterday. I don't want to jump to conclusions but I feel like I may be back in stride. Something happened around the purchase of my new shoes where my running was trailing off and my legs were feeling stiff. Maybe this was a normal plateau? I ran less for a few weeks and feel better now. Perhaps I just needed to adjust to my new shoes; electric blue.
Wednesday, April 24, 2013
Friday, April 19, 2013
Post new post no; wave.
A young father and his son stumble over the rocks leading into City Park Lake
I just managed to take my eyes off of them long enough to see the sun breaking through the clouds to the west. The rays warmed my legs and arms. I pulled my hat back so my hears stuck out and kept up my slow pace. It was years before still when I ran though orange and yellow leaves; the fake autumn of the south with dead leaves and warm air. I had just downloaded a bunch of John Cale. At the time I remember thinking that i was supposed to not think; to just go one step at a time. This was somehow supposed to keep be focused on the present and not the the failings of my past. "Failings." As much as can be said for someone just trying to make it through a decade or a period of one's youth. At the time everything seems so important and so fragile.
My running has been slow lately. It could be due to the weather change, some kind of exotic floor dance I did when too much energy soars through my muscles, or just too little water. That is a thing right? I seem to remember thinking water was important. They say now you can drink too much water.
I can, however, remember this:
A small framed house, just outside of a hill and underneath dark tree coverage. Just a frame with the roof maybe missing from a fire as the walls had patches of black all over them. Huddled in the corner opposite of me sat two guys I had only met days before. They whispered about rocks and how you could throw them deep into lakes and they would never be found again. Red eyes growled from beneath their visages.
I just managed to take my eyes off of them long enough to see the sun breaking through the clouds to the west. The rays warmed my legs and arms. I pulled my hat back so my hears stuck out and kept up my slow pace. It was years before still when I ran though orange and yellow leaves; the fake autumn of the south with dead leaves and warm air. I had just downloaded a bunch of John Cale. At the time I remember thinking that i was supposed to not think; to just go one step at a time. This was somehow supposed to keep be focused on the present and not the the failings of my past. "Failings." As much as can be said for someone just trying to make it through a decade or a period of one's youth. At the time everything seems so important and so fragile.
My running has been slow lately. It could be due to the weather change, some kind of exotic floor dance I did when too much energy soars through my muscles, or just too little water. That is a thing right? I seem to remember thinking water was important. They say now you can drink too much water.
I can, however, remember this:
A small framed house, just outside of a hill and underneath dark tree coverage. Just a frame with the roof maybe missing from a fire as the walls had patches of black all over them. Huddled in the corner opposite of me sat two guys I had only met days before. They whispered about rocks and how you could throw them deep into lakes and they would never be found again. Red eyes growled from beneath their visages.
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