I’ve run four ¼ marathons this week.  A combined course embracing 36 times up (and
down) a ridge that rises above the tops of the trees below. 

Every day this week during a point in the course I have felt
lost.  Strange feeling.  Immediately after
feeling lost, I have felt free.  Even
stranger-feeling consequence given the antecedent feeling.

Ritualistically afterwards, every day I have leaned against
the Villas obelisk (atop the ridge, facing northwards with a view of Lake Erie) and done what I’m doing now.  (Left to your
imagination.)

Normally when I run, I keep perceptually apprised of the
most significant things in my immediate surroundings.  Today, however, I found myself peering into
the deepest furthermost recesses of the views availed me—searching, awaiting
the appearance of…?

Something fun.  I’m
looking for something fun to do.