Day 117: Dusk

I remember back in June running back and forth over the bridges of Pittsburgh at sunset, watching the skies redden and the shadows lengthen. It wasn't quite as glamorous at dusk today, haunting my usual four miles along the Minuteman Bikeway, but I'll pit the vista at Spy Pond against the towers of Steel City any evening.

(I would have run in the morning, but the Sox game meant I got to sleep late, and I thought that waking up super-early would have been the wrong approach to the day.)

Having yesterday as a rest day actually has helped to make a big difference in my knees and in the non-knee areas of my legs. I felt for the most part as though I was running on fresh(er) legs. Have I mentioned that since I started running last November -- and this may sound ridiculous, but it's true, and I lament not realizing until too late that photographic evidence might have been felicitous -- my legs actually have grown new muscles? For real. Think tree trunks. Yes.

Now I'm watching Tom Brokaw try to physically insert himself between Barack Obama and John McCain; John's pounding his fists on Barry's skull-bone, and Obama looks like he's reaching inside his suit jacket for a derringer. I'm so happy that with all the turmoil the world is now going through, we can always rely on good old American politics as one of the true constants of the universe.

(Reminds me of the dialogue from Star Trek VI. Klingon General Chang: "I am constant as the northern star!" Bones: "I'd give real money if he'd shut up!")