I just got back from my first ten-mile run since the injury. Since I took the Richmond marathon off my list of things to do this year, I've lacked motivation. It's nice to think it might be back. I started this whole exercise thing ten months ago in order to get my head straight. My marriage had crumbled and it didn't look like all the King's horses wanted anything to do with the salvage project. To distract myself, I went to Gold's and signed up with no idea of what I wanted to do, or how I was going to do it. Somehow, I fell into a pattern where I was running and working out five or six times a day. That pattern more or less continued unabated until my injury in late August, where I sat out for ten days out of fear of doing serious damage to my knee. Admittedly, I've had a hard time sticking with lifting weights at the gym, only because it's been hard to get organized enough to fit into my schedule, which seems to operate according to some sort of video-g
Striking down the mundane and dastardly while retaining a certain obscure turn of phrase, denoting something elusive yet concrete.