Steve Traylor loaned me this one and I started it in one of those kind of rundown phases where it's hard for me to track compound sentences. So I kept konking out, because I needed sleep more than prize-winning literature. I aspired to Pulitzer-grade reading habits but had a Wurlitzer playing really slow roller-rink music where my frontal brain should have been. Now that I am more alert, I am loving
this book. We moved one of our chairs--an Ikea chair that has been on the chopping block in our home furnishing scheme for some time now--over into a corner between my cds and records. So in this new cozy media nest I lean back under a paper lantern lamp and dig in. It's raining like crazy, and cold. I may blast through the last 200 pages tonight. It's a book that does somersaults of creativity.
At the track I've topped out distance-wise at 4.5 miles, and am pushing the pace a little each time. I have run shorter distances at a faster pace, but started the 4.5 loop with 16 minutes miles, feeling like a bipedal walrus in a Chiefs sweatshirt...now have the time down to 13'30 per mile. Shoes are pretty toasted after about nine months of steady use. But my knees and back feel fine and I haven't done anything dumb to injure myself or push it into the pain-and-discouragement zone. Like I need to sprint. I have a car.
