The Eighth Mile
*iPod says “Four miles to go”*
I don’t mind this light misting rain at all.
Excellent, Cyndi Lauper! Sing it girl!
Look at all of the robins, flocking now that it’s cooler. That one if taking advantage of how the cars have cracked open the black walnuts and is eating the nut meat right off the road. Opportunistic robin! cool.
The joints are feeling used.
Thank the goddess for body glide!
There’s my second cache, thank you Jimbo! Orange Gu and water. I don’t need to walk at all today.
More smashed fruit on the road… AUGH! Get away yellow jacket! *picks up pace*
My gum has gone so stale it’s like chewing a kneaded eraser.
It’s curious how I can envision my past selves and what kind of pace I have had each time I run this route to this playlist. I can see ghost images of myself just a bit ahead or behind, a lot like that dirt bike computer game where you could race against your past games.
Hills are hard but I love them.
Give me my eighth mile, Give Me My Eighth Mile, GIVE ME MY EIGHTH MILE.
*iPod says “Eight Miles Complted“*