Today, I ran 6 easy miles. Splits were 9:27/8:47/8:30/8:32/8:17/8:07. All good. Nice slow start. Legs felt better as I went along. The typical pattern I exhibit after a long run or a hard both .
Those six miles put me at 687.6 miles. That puts me just on the Illinois side of the Wabash River. What was Indiana Route 154 on the east side of the Wabash River becomes Clover St on the Illinois side.
One thing about running today was that I was able to wear a non-tank top shirt and it didn't feel extremely irritated on my shoulder where I still have quite an abrasion and bruise. It's not pretty. If I wash gently and put my backpack on gently I am able to support things on it. If I sling my backpack over it too hard it hurts like anything. And rubbing a washcloth on it in the shower without thinking is also quite painful.
But I keep on.
And I wanted to write a short piece of poetry:
Fall
Sometimes when I run,
I fall.
And I get back up.
And I get cleaned up.
And I get bandaged.
And I get ready to run again.
Not just after I am healed.
But as soon as I can.
And I run again.
And I go.
And I put all the energy I can into it.
And I live.
And I love it.
And I want to experience it.
And I want to make it better.
In fact, I want to make it the best it can be.
Sometimes in my friendships,
I fall.
Sometimes as a father,
I fall.
Sometimes as a son and brother,
I fall.
Sometimes as a husband,
I fall.
So when I fall in a friendship
Or as a father
Or as a son or brother
Or as a husband--
I do just what I do when I fall when I run.
I pick myself up.
And I get going again
As soon as I can.
And I do my best to make life the best it can be.
If I can do it when I run alone,
Why would I do any less in my relationship with others?
When I do,
I sometimes find,
That those to whom I am trying to relate
Are willing to help me up
And clean me up
And make the world a better place.
And sometimes I find
That those to whom I am trying to relate
Just ask,
"Why did you fall?"
As if I did it on purpose.
And I wonder,
"What does that mean?"
Those six miles put me at 687.6 miles. That puts me just on the Illinois side of the Wabash River. What was Indiana Route 154 on the east side of the Wabash River becomes Clover St on the Illinois side.
One thing about running today was that I was able to wear a non-tank top shirt and it didn't feel extremely irritated on my shoulder where I still have quite an abrasion and bruise. It's not pretty. If I wash gently and put my backpack on gently I am able to support things on it. If I sling my backpack over it too hard it hurts like anything. And rubbing a washcloth on it in the shower without thinking is also quite painful.
But I keep on.
And I wanted to write a short piece of poetry:
Fall
Sometimes when I run,
I fall.
And I get back up.
And I get cleaned up.
And I get bandaged.
And I get ready to run again.
Not just after I am healed.
But as soon as I can.
And I run again.
And I go.
And I put all the energy I can into it.
And I live.
And I love it.
And I want to experience it.
And I want to make it better.
In fact, I want to make it the best it can be.
Sometimes in my friendships,
I fall.
Sometimes as a father,
I fall.
Sometimes as a son and brother,
I fall.
Sometimes as a husband,
I fall.
So when I fall in a friendship
Or as a father
Or as a son or brother
Or as a husband--
I do just what I do when I fall when I run.
I pick myself up.
And I get going again
As soon as I can.
And I do my best to make life the best it can be.
If I can do it when I run alone,
Why would I do any less in my relationship with others?
When I do,
I sometimes find,
That those to whom I am trying to relate
Are willing to help me up
And clean me up
And make the world a better place.
And sometimes I find
That those to whom I am trying to relate
Just ask,
"Why did you fall?"
As if I did it on purpose.
And I wonder,
"What does that mean?"
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