Running (through my head)
Running (through my head):
0600 is early.
Where is my other shoe?
Why aren’t my shoes in the same place?
If I can’t find it quietly, I’m not gonna run.
That’s a cop out.
Dude, it’s cold. Why didn’t I pack a long sleeved… anything?
Raining. Yay! Rainy runs are great! I love the rain!
Glad this case is waterproof.
Go right this time.
Right, right right, all day long.
I should stop at that bakery after my run.
So, she’s actually a nun.
Oh crap, a roundabout. That was quick.
Right turn right turn run run run.
Love the designated running/walking/cycling lanes.
Are snot rockets rude if no one sees you blow them?
Why did I think sprints was a good idea?
Right turn right turn right turn…
If I could smell, would this run be different?
Great. I can smell that guy’s cigarette.
Thanks for answering that so quickly.
Why can I smell things like cigarettes and sautéed shallots and burnt garlic but not flowers and cupcakes and babies? Seriously.
Crap, a roundabout. Just run through it.
Run, run run, all day long. Right turns only…
Why is this song on my play list three times?
Why don’t I get up at 0600 to run in America?
Turn around. Seriously. You have to run all the way back too; don’t be a hero.
Is this uphill?
Was I running downhill?
Why does my right hip hurt?
Oh. Because you fell while navigating that swath of gravel even though you slowed down enough to stop and take a photo.
You might consider a running helmet.
People saw that, Grace.
Glad this case is shatterproof.
What is wrong with my gait?
Pay attention to your footfall; your calves and heels are gonna hurt. Remember Green. Village.
You should drop Ken a note.
That type of stone is slippery; watch out.
Dude. This is the left. Go left.
Oh look, a roundabout. This is the one I ran through…
There are American flags everywhere; do they disappear after June, I wonder?
Do I smell? Oh, dude. I stink and I can smell me. That shouldn’t excite me, but it does.
The big roundabout! Left turn!
Holy crap; that’s a whole pig hanging in that truck. I haven’t seen meat displayed like that since Kabul!
Haha. The butcher thought I was taking HIS picture.
There’s that bakery again. I really want a protein shake.
This bridge was yesterday’s photo stop.
I’ve passed this bridge, that means I’ve passed the gate. Maybe Carole was right; these photos are breadcrumbs in case I get lost. Damnit. I hate being lost.
Ok, sprint up that hill then turn around and start looking for the green gate.
Will it be on my left or right?
I went right out of the gate, right? So that puts it on my left. But I passed it, I think. Damn. It. DAMNIT.
Green gate… hey. I have a photo of the gate from yesterday. The address is there. Ok. 68. There’s 22. 30…
Oh, hey butcher dude. What? Ah… no. I didn’t come back to chat. And I don’t know what you said but your smile is nice. Bye.
46, 52, 60, who numbers these places?
Oh hello green gate.
So happy to see you again.
One thought on “Running (through my head)”
The fact that you didn’t end up in Denmark is a minor miracle. Doing work. Writing words. Continue.