No, I don’t know what that’s supposed to mean either.

I’m still recovering from this morning’s run. I went solo because Jack’s foot fell off in the night, or something. He’s in pain so I left him home to wallow in misery. Another glorious day except a bit warmer and less breeze so all the insects in the world were after me. Tuesday was a wonderful respite from the hordes of gnats and other gnasties who kept after me. At least I didn’t aspirate any of them today.

I am looking ahead to next week and how long I will have to run. Right now, my jogs are 90 seconds in length. I have no earthly idea how I will be able to do longer. But I am comforted by the fact that I said the same thing about 90 seconds last week when I was only doing 30. Right? I said that, right? Please tell me I said that…

I love running on the bike path. Everyone is so friendly. We all nod and wave to each other. Jack points out that we also grunt. This is true. Lots of grunting. It’s very paleolithic.

And today, no one was riding or walking on the wrong side. I don’t get that. There are signs every few hundred feet in one form or another that tell walkers and runners to be on the left and bikes on the right. Then again, I constantly see people walking around the ‘hood on the wrong side of the street. Drives me crazy. Must be my own particular brand of OCD. Whatevs. The point is, you walk/run facing traffic and you bike with traffic. What do rollerbladers do? Who cares. They’re right bastards. (I’m sorry. I don’t know why I said that. Except that I tried to rollerblade once with my friend Sarah and it was humiliating and awful so I have decided that they are all right bastards. Hey, look at that, I do know why I said it.)

Anyway, I gather that somehow, some way I will be able to handle week 3. I am also pretty sure that 99% of that depends on my surviving week 2 so let me focus on that first. One more day… one more day…