The waves keep rolling, rolling, out. The sea of normalcy retreats.
The waves keep rolling, rolling, out. The sea of normalcy retreats.
I wash my hands tightly — I watch little
bubbles of soap squirm helplessly
between the web of skinny fingers.
While it feels arbitrary and misplaced to write about my training at a time like this, having some semblance of order and routine amongst a lot of unknowns is healing as well.
I thought it would be fun to keep a log/journal of my upcoming training for Pikes Peak 50 Miler in July :)
I placed each book into one of three categories: books I’ve loved and would read again, others I really enjoyed but probably wouldn’t read again, and a handful that were just so-so.
I wonder if more dog owners buy tennis balls than players,
or if we just find stray ones on courts and in garages.
For better or worse, the reason I started cooking more often is because I became a suburb dog mom.
When we return to the airport, I’m not ready. The Spanish language was beginning to soak into my brain, the humidity in my bones and the kind spirit in my chest.
I notice my legs. They feel trashed, torn open on the inside. Bone, ligament, muscle seem to all be displaced.