For whatever reason, I’ve been running a lot lately (whereby “a lot” I mean 1 or 2 times a week for the last 3 weeks). One night, I was sitting alone in my apartment, realizing that this was my life for the next bit, and decided that I really needed to start running away from things like that. And so, for no particular reason, I decided to go for a little run. So I ran to the end of the road. And when I got there, I thought maybe I’d run to the end of town. And when I got there, I thought maybe I’d just run across L.A. County. And I figured, since I run this far, maybe I’d just run across the great state of California. And that’s what I did. I ran clear across California. For no particular reason I just kept on going. I ran clear to the ocean. And when I got there, I figured, since I’d gone this far, I might as well turn around, just keep on going. When I got to another ocean, I figured, since I’d gone this far, I might as well just turn back, keep right on going…

Huh? Where was I? Ah yes, if you look at my cam link, you’ll see me as I type this, sweating and listening to Massive Attack, freshly back from tonight’s run.

For the most part, someone telling you that they’ve been running lately would be boring to the nth degree… and it is. If you knew me, though, you’d be surprised (though still bored). I hate running. I do, in fact, loathe running. The reason only being: I suck at it. Basketball running I can handle. Up and down the court at a full sprint for game after game? Tiring but manageable. The whole distance running for cardiovascular fitness? Ugh. Too boring, too long, too regimented, too hard.

There is something cathartic about running at 10:00 at night, though.

Besides, desperate times call for desperate measures; and, my demons are not going to out-run themselves.

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