Have you ever been talking on the cell phone, while at the same time looking for your cell phone? I have.
My sister told me that she once used the landline to call her cell because she couldn’t find it. Then she ran and answered the cell, “Hello? Hello?”
I was once telling my friend how I left my keys in the car ignition when I went grocery shopping. The entire produce section was looking for my keys, because I WAS SURE that I had them in my hands while looking at apples. My friend told me – that’s nothing! Then he confessed that when he went golfing he had to go back to his car because he thought he left his keys in them. Not only did he find his keys in the ignition. But he car was still running!!!
Are we getting old? Everyone gets old (and really we’re not THAT old). Even if we were, I don’t think that’s the culprit here. I think there’s just too much to think about. Too much data.
At least for my brain.
No, this blog is not going where you think it is. I’m not going to talk about all the high tech shoes and running equipment, and how we have to keep track of our pace, elevation, etc. . . I’m simply going to say that I took a nice thirteen mile run this morning. My last run before the storm that’s supposed to come in tomorrow.
Anyway, I dumped lots and lots of data running trails today. It was beautiful.
As I ran down “No-Name,” I felt extremely thirsty. Lately, I’ve been running with handhelds, and with nothing in my hands this morning, I kind of felt to myself (I didn’t really think words, because I was in NO THINKING MODE this morning), “I can’t wait to get to the ranger station.” (There’s a drinking fountain there.) This is how it is in NO THINKING MODE. I mean, didn’t it dawn on me that it was pretty odd that I didn’t carry water on a ten plus mile run? Then some voice penetrated through the wall and said, “Ah . . . Lauren, you have 64 fluid ounces on your back.” I laughed and laughed as I drank up.
And then I ran in the moment for the next thirteen miles.
And now for the pictures of a tranquil trail run in El Moro: