Running…with Jung.

6:17am: I’m up and out the door.  It’s a beautiful morning for running. Wisps of cool air cutting through the early September humidity. Streaks of clouds cover the sunrise.  A splash of color on a few trees getting a head start on autumn.  It’s September 3rd.  And a great day to be alive.  (Hello September.  Where did the year go? Love, LOVE, the fall season.  The pulsating picture above feels like my heart does now. Ba Boom. Ba Boom. Ba Boom. Ba Boom.  Keep tickin’ baby. Keep tickin’.)

6:23am: Pace is good.  Both jets feel good.  No one is out and about. Pesky squirrels are sleeping.  Even the birds are quiet. (Yep, it’s just me and my head.  And that can get crowded.  Managed to contain the food intake yesterday. Miracle. Determined to get this weight down before the hibernation period. As Brenna would say, Thanksgiving is the time of the year “when I feel like I’ve eaten a gallon of mashed potatoes and a gravy-injected turkey and washed it down with six or seven espressos.”)

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Cranky Old Man

This is a remarkable story and more remarkable poem.  And so fitting for a…Good Sunday morning.


cranky old man“When an old man died in the geriatric ward of a nursing home in an Australian country town, it was believed that he had nothing left of any value.  Later, when the nurses were going through his meager possessions, they found this poem. Its quality and content so impressed the staff that copies were made and distributed to every nurse in the hospital. One nurse took her copy to Melbourne. The old man’s sole bequest to posterity has since appeared in the Christmas editions of magazines around the country and appearing in mags for Mental Health. A slide presentation has also been made based on his simple, but eloquent, poem.  And this old man, with nothing left to give to the world, is now the author of this ‘anonymous’ poem winging across the Internet.”  (DK: Apparently, everyone has seen this, but me.)

 ~ Source: anewstartt

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