Wilde running

After a few pleasantly chill and damp days, this morning seemed tropical, partly because I went lazily out at 7:30 instead of in the relative coolth of 6:30. By the time I’d shuffled to the mile mark, I was sweating steam, so turning into the cemetery, I flipped my shirt up over the back of my neck to get a little air for half a mile. I could do this in New North, because I’m pretty sure those resting there don’t mind. When I got back to Washington Avenue, however, I flipped it back down so as not to scare anyone. Dorian Gray might have had that picture in the attic, but my otherwise unearthly handsome youthfulness is belied by the truth I conceal beneath my tee. The truth is appalling to look upon. 

Flab notwithstanding, I’m back up to 4 miles. I’ve been trying to emulate the ladies and just ease along. I find this sort of vertical running (it feels more up and down than striding along) much more difficult than my usual shuffle. It really takes all the fun out of it, too, but at least so far it’s left me tweak free. 

I’ve also been getting a myofascial release treatment (fascial, not facial!) once a week from T the massage therapist. This takes about five minutes, consists of a particular stretch and some manipulation, and seems to unlock or ease a chronic issue in my right hip. Although I don’t understand exactly what it might have to do with a strained achilles, it seems to be doing me some good. It feels good, anyway.

But I still really need to dig out an airier shirt.

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