Waking. up. On couch with Jackie, slowly engaging with this Sumatra.

Can’t focus on page.  ‘Cause I’m on the couch with Jack and he’s watching this new cartoon that bases itself on Oz, and this character who I was just told is the original Dorothy’s great, great, maybe another great, grandmother.  So confused, no idea what’s going on.

How much money did I spend yesterday?  Don’t want to think about it.  No spend today.

At desk, still waking up.  Sip the coffee faster, I tell myself.  Get to cup 2, you’ll be more alive by then.  Find receipt in wallet, the Blue Ridge Kitchen, where I took self to lunch yesterday.  Had to park a couple blocks away.  More than crowded, more than perfect weather outside.  Saw man jogging through that part of Sebastopol, “The Barlow” it’s called.  Made me feel something.  Inadequate, frankly.  I need to run more.  Forget the fucking Peloton bike.  I hate that thing, to be honest.  Shoes alone are a pain, and what’s so special about it?  Calories and distance are counted, yeah okay.  There’s someone on a screen, and that’s it.  Yeah, not for me.

I’m a runner.

Upstairs told myself I have 90 days to be marathon ready.  Not sure why I said that, but I did.  From this feeling of inadequacy, if that’s what the feeling is.  Still waking, I think of running… other places, and on more trails.  Maybe take on the Marin Headlands again, someday.

Just emailed the Marin County Half Marathon site, make sure they still have me registered.  Hope I hear from them soon, but if not oh well at least I know when it is.  Halloween, this year.

3.11 miles, my run for the day.  Henry waking, my writing interrupted.  Nothing I can do.  Don’t resist, don’t despair, work with the existing momentum.  Not even done with first cup and I’m feeling more alive, functional.  Lazy Sunday morning for Mr. Jack, Emma still asleep.  Me with coffee.  No sound other than Jack’s cartoon.  Thinking about my run, 3.11 miles.  Route already planned, something different.  Think that’s been my problem, getting bored with routes.  Not that it’s an excuse, it’s just more compulsory of my now to be creative with routes.. plan sometimes and others make up as your soles touch asphalt.

I’m a new runner today.  One methodical and with a clear sight and destination seen.  Imagine self running in Colorado, Oregon, Florida, New York, France…. Running everywhere.  All weather, all terrain, all conditions, all crowd and runner levels.   Not sure what got into me when I woke up, really.  Could be the man running in the Barlow, or just that I haven’t been running and tired of being trapped in this goddamn house….  Thinking again about life’s work, and “living out my days” as I heard someone say doing precisely that much later in life than me.

Thoughts of someone wanting to run more, I guess.  I’m in my own Oz, figuring my way all over again.