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.