Didn’t let it bother me, even slightly. I felty altogether free, a run non-numerically. No obsession with what that little screen said. I just ran, focusing on pacing and form, letting my vessel to me speak, let me know how it felt. Though I wasn’t fixated on any numbers, I’m quite sure I topped 3 miles, which is fine, more than fine as my approach with the coming half’s is to start slow, impressively slow, for the first three miles then push self into intentioned intervals.
Ran through vineyards on Coffey, then up to Hopper sbux where I learned Alice hadn’t yet arrived, then ran back toward Coffey, where I intercepted Alice and the babies. We had our coffee and snack inside Hopper then walked back to the A-Walk Studio. A bit later, to the children’s museum. Can’t remember the proper title of the facility, but I couldn’t stop noting in my head everything I was seeing, all around us a punctuation and push of self-education; children instructing themselves, the cause-and-effect of everything, watching trains and how they function, a light ball (not sure the material) levitating above a conical device expelling consistently tempered air. Jack was into everything, wandering around and always wanting to show me everything. This one section that emphasized building, assembly of things, a sign saying “DREAM BIG”, and another “MINDS AT WORK”. I immediately thought of the garage, and how so many entrepreneurs started in their garage, a place of building a career or some thing, a career around some thing or idea, device or story— all of it. I as well thought of how far away I am now from that age, but thinking like them, or trying, eager to explore and build, just seeing where an idea will go. Cause.. effect. This museum visit very much affecting my cause. Cause? My movement toward the Road, exploring the entire world and collecting characters and sensory sparkers, markers.
Now, Alice has her stylist friend over, to do her hair some certain specific way before the family photo shoot this evening. Today, very much of the father mode. And my note earlier, on not fighting time, poignant from my story. I may want to write for an hour, or even thirty minutes. But if all I have is ten minutes, then that’s what I use. And now, who knows how much time I have with Emma watching Mama get her hair shaped, and little Kerouac upstairs napping. Cued the coffee for the writer father, as the run did take more vitality than I estimated. I’m running out of power. Maybe I will get a chance to nap like Kerouac. No.. can’t afford it. First day of class, going to play with the thought of ‘freedom’, with the students. See how they understand the idea, when and where they’ve ever experienced it. Bring them some poetry which I believe promotes the idea of total Autonomy. And how Poetry IS freedom. More verses… Compound.