Running. In Warsaw.


The hotel lobby. (~2006)
High cathedral ceilings. Dark wood grain walls.  Turkish Rugs that run and run.
There’s a whiff of lemon in the air, the wood floors scrubbed by the overnight crew.
The Bellman, adorned with a red cap, offers a “God Morning” in broken English, and quickly drops his head back to his book.
A step back in time.

There’s no mistaking Warsaw (Poland, not Indiana) for the youth and flamboyance of Barcelona or the hushed old money wealth of Geneva or the modern efficiency and hum of Tokyo.

Warsaw is the Mickey Rourke in The Wrestler. Long past his prime and wearing deep scars of bone jarring defeat. Tired, hurt and a heaviness that lingers.

It was a slow run 9 years ago.
An early Sunday morning in autumn.
A single 40-minute run cutting deep furrows which are turned over and over again. [Read more…]

SMWI*: Walk. Now.


In the back of my awareness,
I also know this:
The day will come when
I shall have to recall the luxuriant splendor of long, solitary walks,
rather than take them.

~ Katrina Kenison, Present. Magical Journey: An Apprenticeship in Contentment 


  • SMWI* = Saturday Morning Work-Out Inspiration.
  • Photo by Maxine – My Perfect Void – My october | Russia, 10/30/2015.

Running. With Rain.


56° F.  Rain spitting on the windshield.
The convoy rolls out to Mianus River for a trail run.
Zeke sighs as he curls in the backseat.  Anya settles in the trunk.
The Wolfpack is draggin’.
Their leader rides the slow lane on I-95 thinking about the benefits of a long walk on his joints.
99 days. 3 months + since your last trail run. What a lazy a**.

Rain stops.  Clouds hang low.
We pass through the gate.
The Park is empty but for a fisherman making his way upstream.
Both dogs pull on the leashes. A sharp tug gets them to heal.
Wait! I’m not ready for this yet.

I look up.
A gold leaf canopy.
I look down.
A solid gold leaf carpet.
Someone is laying tracks.
[Read more…]

SMWI*: It’s a shame that sometimes


It’s a beautiful thing
to have lungs that allow you to breathe air
and legs that allow you to climb mountains,
and it’s a shame that sometimes
we don’t realize that that’s enough.



SMWI*: Fly!



  • SMWI* = Saturday morning workout inspiration.
  • Source: wsj.comA dog catches a flying disk during a competition in Moscow. Photo by Sergei Karpukhin/Reuters.

Running. With M&Ms.


A quick check of atmospheric conditions:
87% humidity. 87% humidity.
Wind S 7 mph.

5:40 am.
I’m out the door.

There’s no ranting about weight gain this morning.  I’m tired of it. Tired of talking about itYou didn’t seem all that tired when you were savoring the M&M Chocolate Chip Cookies yesterday. Or the 4 you had the day before.  2-Day Count: 10. Staggering (Staggering) lack of discipline and will. 

1 mile marker: Impossible to neglect that this carriage is tired.  Shoulders heavy. Legs are anvils. Mind thick with resistance. M&M Blood clotting. 

2 mile marker: Head winds at 7 mph. I’m sweating like a plow horse in mid-August. If I go any slower, I’ll be pushed backwards.  It’s the Sabbath.  An appropriate morning to Call on All Gods for inspiration. Christian. Hindu. Muslim. Judaism. Any Creator will do. I look up. Hear nothing. Feel nothing. Appears that the disappointment in me is Universal.  All Gods to DK: Repent. [Read more…]

SMWI*: Cadre


“In the series ‘Wonderland creatures‘, French dancer Arthur Cadre photographed and performed mesmerizing body positions in natural landscapes. The images, which were shot in locations around the world, see Cadre twisting his body and transforming himself into ethereal forms that complement the backdrop. In addition to dance, he practices disciplines such as acrobatics, parkour and contortion.”

Don’t miss other Cadre’s other body position shots: Arthur Cadre Captures Twisting Body Poses In Nature

SMWI*: Saturday Morning Work-Out Inspiration


SMWI*: Swim (60 sec)

Notes: SMWI* = Saturday morning workout inspiration.

Running. To 7:20 am.


It’s 2:44 am.
A Full Moon.
Its lambent lighting caresses the earth’s surface.

I trudge downstairs.
Hands greedily reach for ice water.

Eyes pan down to the second shelf.
I reach for the container and lift out two of the largest.
Driscoll’s Finest Raspberries from Watsonville, CA.
The tongue savors the sweet nectar from the red drupelets.

On to unfinished business.
A partially started, uninspiring mess of words following yesterday’s run.
Old fruit aging in the back of the crisper.
I drag the cursor down to select the entire passage.
And hit Delete to bury it.

It was 6:51 am. Yesterday.
I was half way through the run.
It came as a Mind-Pop.
I need to get back by 7:20 am.
But I’m too far out on this loop.
I must get back by 7:20 am. [Read more…]

Running. With Tug-o-McWhopper.


It’s 4:26 am. Hump Day.

The scale works, with its condescending blink-blink-blink.
Down B*tch. Down.
It flashes Up.
Up 8 lbs since the last running post over a month ago.

I turn to the morning papers.  Headline: Burger King has reached out to McDonald’s with a 1-day cease-fire offer to combine the Whopper with the Big Mac to create the McWhopper. Wow.

I shift uncomfortably on the couch.

Don’t care? Don’t want to? Too hot?
Where’s the disgust? The fury?
Riding Apathy Road here.
Wow. [Read more…]