I finish my 8.2 mile adventure at 10am. It is now 85F and wonderful. I wring out my wet socks, two t-shirts, and beak down my shoes to all dry in the sun. I grab a Chek Cola and drink the hell out of that. Sitting on the flower stoop a puddle forms. I’m low to the ground. I can smell ammonia from the sweat which has poured off me. I repeat this almost everyday. The shorts are washed in the shower and the t’s are recycled 2-3 times before they are added to the wash. I go through socks like Tim (State Champ Tim) goes through .99 cent pancakes at BK.
Adding clothes is a goal. A goal of being ready to do a 100 miler that will never get signed up for. Like many the prices of some events are comical so I ponder doing my own. Not sure why this effort is being put forth when the TV says downing some fruit pills and having a door on my bathtub will change my life.
Florida is similar with drivers and runners. I seek out places with minimal traffic. Along the lines of a car coming either way every 1-2 minutes. It still amazes me how some folks give zero quarter. They have plenty of room to move, but refuse. Some are even nice enough to smile and wave as I’m up in the weeds gathering bramble of all sorts.
Went to a big free concert with food vendors and a big fireworks show last night. Hoping this gets me off the hook for a double today. The wife is making cheesy potatoes to take to the neighbors bbq. Last night I was able to see an old friend. Ever notice how you slip back into the same mannerisms and inside joke mode. Doesn’t matter how many decades went by. There was some good hilarity.
Okay. Time to become the other version of me. Happy 4th.
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