I am not a good runner. I am trying to be a good casual runner. The Man has, on a couple of occasions, expressed an interest in running together. The answer is no. When I'm running in Somerville, in our neighborhood, I can stop whenever I want, and people who see me will not know if I have just run 5 miles (no) or 3 miles (no) or 1 mile (more like it). If I run with a person, that person will know. And then make fun of me, obviously.
There is this awesome stand of bamboo on Winslow near Morrison where I jog. It's probably twelve feet high and it's pretty dense. I kind of want a stand of bamboo in our yard.
I need to remember that when I'm commuting and I have my earbuds in, if I say something under my breath, even though I can't hear it, people NOT wearing earbuds CAN hear it. Remembering this may save me from a bloody lip in the future. Yesterday on the T I sat down. A man sat down next to me. When I sit, my thighs are straight in front of me and my hands are in my lap, so as to make me appropriately small so I don't get in other people's space. The man next to me made himself as wide as possible: His legs were in a wide V-shape, and his arms were at his sides holding coffee and a paper, also at his sides. I might have mumbled something like "fucking christ I have no space" and he might have heard me. A little. His retribution was to sit exactly as he was. Touché, man, touché.
Living in a community in the age of social networking is kind of awesome because about twenty minutes after posting on Facebook that I craved some chocolate I was sitting in my neighbor's kitchen eating chocolate and chatting and drinking malbec served at 65 degrees. So, the system works.
On fall attire:
Today is the first day I'm wearing boots, as I don't allow myself to wear them before fall starts because that is crazy. Despite wearing pretty light-weight Clarks, I felt physically and emotionally heavier. I should probably get some kind of froofy coffee drink to make myself feel better about this...