No wine tonight.  Just dinner, then decaf

and slice—okay, two—of apply pie.  Tired, ready for bed.  And ready to have the most fierce battle with 4AM ever.  Wake, then roll out of bed and to concrete, to run.  Not thinking about distance at the moment, and probably won’t be when I do hit the Coffey Park neighborhood streets, then up Hopper and up to Mendocino like I did that one morning, several months ago.  I keep thinking about yesterday’s run, 7 miles—no, 7.5—before even getting to work.  Tomorrow’s going to challenge me, staying home with Jack and Emma while Alice is gone to work till close to 2, I estimate.  Feel my mood sour for some reason but I can’t let it.  Tomorrow morning’s where I can change EVERYTHING.  Be a REAL runner, write about it, write when I get back from the run, all about the run, the run that changes my life, gives me a joy I never thought I’d hold.  I used to fear the dark, running when no sun’s with me, and I still do a bit I admit, but I’m eager for tomorrow’s battle.  And that small fear helps motivate.  Was just reading a blog of a guy who habitually wakes at 4 to run, shares his high and inspiration in finishing run before sunrise.  Tomorrow is it.  All.  Or nothing.

Tempted by another cup of decaf but I think water’s more appropriate.  Running clothes on desk.  I’ll sleep in them and just hop into my shoes.  Will prep them as well, have laces out and shoe stretched open so all the writer has to do is without sound slide into them and go.  And that’s the whole and encompassing motif for morrow and its entire string of daylight hours.  GO.  Think about nothing, let nothing stress you or give you any angst—  Let go of everything.  I’m just going to run.  That simple.  Time now, 10:15.. I’ll be in bed by 10:30, latest.  I’m changing my attitude on everything… this meditation has now intensified, seeing everything I’m capable of and that I should have by now.  Sitting on the floor, back against couch and the light lowered to the low atmospheric voice I prefer.  The moment tells me not to worry about what I ‘should have by now’.  In fact it tells me to dismiss that entirely.  “Forget about that nonsense, and just enjoy your run,” it commands.  But I do see that I can have anything I want.  And, I do mean, ANYthing.  This is far more soothing or gratifying than some silly wine I could have opened, or some hollow-headed “Article” that some wine blogger or “writer” could have somehow between sips stitched together.  I’ll be on the pavement soon, tired, but the stomping will wake me.  If I can do this, I’ll be stronger than I ever have been.  I’ll be on my way to the Road, on my way to everything, that everything I see— house by ocean, my kids playing on a vast green front yard just outside my home office window.  Dreams turn tangible, balance grasped, contentment pervades…