I’ve been really waiting a long time to find this time. A time when I can exemplify and manifest myself in a precedent of success.

I dream a lot. Not in the sleep sense of the word. But in promise, and ambition, and in pursuit. I imagine great things, and work towards them. I try to weave my duties within the paragraphs of this great script of life.

I imagine these scenic runs, where I meet toil and fatigue, only to imagine myself become renewed. I have an experience of the past; yet redefine my efforts by something today. It doesn’t always work, but on the few occasions that I achieve these small things, I feel unrivaled success, and astronomical joy.

Yesterday was quite miserable. I didn’t train. It was an off day. I’m going to be honest; I think I may have permanently injured a part of my calf last spring. After running Boston on it, I now have this different musculature in the medial side of my tibialis anterior. So maybe it just needs some ART or massage, but it’s a pretty strange area. I resolved yesterday I would run long, at my happy place this morning, before I did anything about my moving process, or painting furniture, or the other minutiae outside my endurance endeavors.

I ran a long run at my favorite place today, as I promised. It went exceedingly well. I suffered yesterday to enjoy today. Joy, I exercised. I encountered horses with riders, dogs, hikers, and a degree of familiarity I had long forgotten. The fundamental difference between those of New Hampshire and those of the Bay State is the degree of simple kindness they exhibit. For the people north are of such kind heart and soul, without the slightest adversary. Despite the suffering, the agony, and the stresses facing me, my running keeps me grounded. It gives me life.

There is life, deep in my suffering.