Ran right on Summerfield, turned around when I reached end then went to Howarth, where I ran into Annadel till I hit 7, then turn around again.  Stopped at the condo complex across the street, where we often walk with Jackie and see the three ducks and their adversarial goose guardian, or whatever he is, with his vile temper.  In house now, ready to brew coffee but first sip the water.  Need to train harder for the 26.2 in Santa Cruz.  So.. rest all day, 3 miles to run tomorrow, from PC, right after class.  Then five and five for the next two days, I’m thinking.  11:10 the time now, and I’m not stressing one bit about what I want to do today.. in fact, I may go for a drive after this, to the book store, just look around, maybe get a couple things.. not sure, and that’s the beauty of it.  Today, my primary job if you would was to run, something significant, and I did, more than half a marathon.  And while running, because of the pain and exhaustion in both legs, I very much entertained stopping, but I didn’t, saying to myself, just run slower, like writing the Massamen novel; keep writing, and if you have to decrease in pace, do!  Long as it gets done.  Speaking of, I need to get to page 10 today, however it gets done it must get done.  Novel’s due in 19 days!  And this deadline will see my success!  It will be Beaten, defeated, off the slate .. deleted.

Didn’t break much a sweat with this run, nor did I have any meaningful pain in knee right, nor foot left (right at point where leg meets foot, where pain always flashes, sings, alarms me).  Just an overall soreness in both legs, and tiresomeness.  But I thought to myself, as I ran past our condo, “I AM over 13.1, of course it’s gonna hurt.” But, I then reasoned, “what am I to do with 26.2?” Have to run more regularly, have to not only do these big runs once a week.  I have to always be running like I’m always writing.  Sitting on this couch now the pain fades, away like a bird bored with its perch.  And I need my coffee.  Where am I to write today?  Hmm.. maybe… the golf course, as I did the day They let me go?  Or should I go to the winery up the street, Matanzas?  Maybe have a glass of SB and go from there.. and stay grounded in Mr. Massamen’s considerations, of everything.. the adjunct whirl, what I thought much about on my run, and how it’s different for me as a married man with a son and hopefully another sometime soon (son 2 or daughter 1), and about to buy a house, vs. Mr. Mass’; single, apartment, little ties, just in his 30s and frustrated.. which doesn’t diminish or trivialize his story, my remarks, not at all!  I’m just thinking of how they’re different.

I finally sit to the coffee.  Walking to the kitchen, my legs feel just fine.  But I have no time to dwell on my legs and how they feel, and how I feel so spry after 14.1 miles.  No I have a day to live.. so … bookstore, then maybe.. Cellars of Sonoma, just to say hi, see who’s there (but don’t buy wine!).  This tightness with money and the fact I have no budget to self-publish anywhere but this blog has me quite frustrated, that porcupine Mike Madigan with the quills, charing at whatever incenses me.  And I’m wasting the day sitting here on this couch writing.. should be doing so from offsite, enjoying my day– that’s part of ‘Wellness’, right, being content, or happy, or joyful, composed and assured?  Now that I think about it… I think about it.. ‘it’ being the Massamen Novel…..  Yes, and idea.. putting more in this bottle, the ox has to scoot to side.  Oh this idea may be the one, like when I met Alice, like when I found Arista, like when I saw that writing movie in late ’08 that changed everything about the way I write, wrote, WRITE.  To the shower, then Road…