I still didn't run, but maybe soon, really this time.

I did not run again today, which is not news. I know this because I originally went to the University of Kansas' esteemed journalism school, where I was taught that a thing merely happening - or not happening, as it were - is not news.

Of course, I say "originally" because I got the fuck out of there, and polished off my academic life in the English department, where I was free to write basically whatever I wanted. When I turned a 300 word stock news story into a 5,000 word short story, filled with melodramatic noir cliches, and ultimately, I think, the explosion of a bank, it appeared time to go. 

So when I say this is not news, you will know that I mean it earnestly, but also that I do not care even a little bit. 

In any case, I did not run, because although the healing process is coming along nicely, the "cessation of pain process" is less far along. A bit irritating, that, to know that I probably could run, but, y'know, ouch. I tell myself alternately that I'm being a wimp, and then that this is entirely reasonable. 

Were it not 100 degrees out, and were the air not dense with the rancid miasma we here know as the region's humidity, I would perhaps be more inclined to push things. But perhaps not. 

While I'm somewhat in a hurry to run again, I don't feel any urgent need to return to race readiness. It's the cruising of easy miles, trotting along at something between 7 and 8, that I miss. Hell, 9s are cool too, if I'm feeling sluggish. Odd to say, I miss running easy, even if that means running fucking slow. Should probably, y'know, do some strides or hill sprints or some shit too, but whatever. 

I do have a racing singlet waiting for me at the local running store, which I will theoretically wear when I get myself contorted into some kind of decent shape, such that I wouldn't feel totally fraudulent wearing it. Would a 1:22 half be good enough? Eh. 13 miles seems awfully far, at the moment. How the hell did I ever run 50?

On other gear: Shoes? Shoes are expensive, and I have a tortured infatuation with them, a love that has thus far gone unrequited. No shoe has loved me back. But, I'll need something for my hobbyjoggering. While I don't expect to go full HOKA (though the Clifton and Huaka are intriguing), something that is not basically a tattered nylon memory of a shoe would be a good idea. Skimpy shoes taught me how to run, and frankly, showed me that I could. So I'm not totally abandoning my low drop preferences. But there comes a point where pragmatism must replace idealism. Breaking bones is that point. Concrete hurts. I want some fucking foam. Not, like, too much. Not so much. I want, I guess, the just right oatmeal, after spending years proving I could eat the absurdly hot bowl.

Other things: World Cup! Coffee! Melons! Dogs!

All of these things are great. Most of my favorite people are dogs.