I've been sluggish. I've been a sloth. I've been slovenly. I've slipped. I've slowly begun the transformation to large man again. Or have I? I can report I've taken advantage of my day off to spend 90 minutes under the sun running my first ten-miler in about three months or so. My work schedule ramped up dramatically in August, meaning that I've not had much chance to do long runs. Sunday mornings are my only real opportunity, and I've been too exhausted to go for it. There's also house-cleaning that needs to be done, and I've been choosing to do that instead. But, today, on a day off, I can clearly say that I've got to figure out a way to engineer distance runs back into my life. There's nothing more satisfying then selecting a distance, coming up with a pace, and then running it, arriving home at all out of breath, and not even particularly tired. This is what it feels like to be healthy. There's nothing like the joy I get at key m
Striking down the mundane and dastardly while retaining a certain obscure turn of phrase, denoting something elusive yet concrete.