I always wanted to be better than run of the mill at everything. As I get older I ruminate a bit more about not pulling that much away from the pack, if at all.
Best thing to do when that happens is to go for a run. Even if it's just on the dreadmill down in the basement. It's cool down there even when it's hot as hell in Woodland Hills. Even when you're dreading being run of the mill.
Not that I minded running in 100 degrees when I was 20 pounds lighter and a few years younger. Ah, there I go again. Only this time it's more about being pulled back to the pack when I had actually separated from it as a runner.
I left behind the crazy day with the steady rhythm of the whirling belt carrying me away even as I stood still.
Forgot about not getting started on a new project because I didn't get contacts from my customer. Forgot the crash of the scout training for dealing with weather that threw me back into the tornado section. Forgot the racket as the handy man fixed the leaky shower by grinding the gears that were chewing up the washer.
Cooled down slowly in the shower but still sweated like a stuffed pig all the way to Dodger Stadium. Made it to the stadium on surface streets without GPS, almost like I was a Dodgers and not a Giants fan. Split Gordon Biersch garlic fries with Theo. Stuffed pig feeling returned even though it was cooler by then. Don't know if Theo was more impressed with the fries or when I called the home run Ethier hit on a 3-0 pitch and also the 2 out, 3-2 count steal of third by Kemp. Probably by the fries. All on the day that Frank McCourt probably gave up owning the Dodgers. Getting pulled back into the pack.
Tomorrow will be better. Run early, before it gets hot, and long, before my will weakens. Before my resolve gives way and I fail to really get out and only slouch back down to the dreadmill for a few more miles in the cool and dark.
