It’s like 50 degrees outside. I know, some run when it’s like 20-something. Taking a writing break. Sucking on a Mento. Circles…. Feel like lunch. I swear I will run tomorrow. Supposed to be like 70-something I think, or just 70. Okay, I say to myself, one more day off. But lift these weights by desk. One more laundry run, dryer…. Then I have to fold. Shit. The part I most loathe. Need an early drive, maybe. It’s only 11:08. Really? Stop looking at the clock, get out of character, pattern.