Super Tuesday

And it was a super Tuesday.

This morning offered everything that I like about living in Georgia. The stars were out, and it was a pleasant 53 degrees while I ran at 4 AM. My nose also ran; I can clear my sinuses continuously for an entire marathon. I ran, the sweat ran, my nose ran, and the clock ran; it was a symphony of running.

As I ran I realized that my writing has been disappointing me, and I knew I needed an inspiration-fix.
"You're forcing it," I told myself, "just let it flow."
"Easy for you to say," I told my ever intrusive inner-self, "you never do anything except offer advice, and quite often you're wrong."

I crossed the road to take in Pig Rock (PR) from a new, and hopefully inspiring, angle. It sort of looked like a smiling dolphin that was headed toward the church. I thought the message was that I was supposed to go to the church, but it was 4 Am and it was closed, so I knew that I had misinterpretted the message. I moved on silently.
"Don't underestimate the power of PR," I told myself.
"Give it a rest," I also told myself.

As I ran, I looked around me for something that presented itself as an idea to ponder....nothing. I saw a dead deer...no inspiration there.
At the gas station I whipped around and headed home, I was brooding now and ran along with gritty determination.

On a whim, I left the road and went into the woods seeking some sort of enlightenment. I tripped over a log and nearly fell, then I heard bigfoot so I scrambled back to the road.
"What the hell were you thinking?" I hissed at myself.
"I ddddon't know," I stammered.
"...end up all splayed open in the woods as a bigfoot treat....dumbass," I wasn't cutting myself any slack on this one.

I cleared my nose and headed down the road for home.
I actually had a tick on my leg later; an eery reminder of my brush with bigfoot. I had forgotten how difficult a tick can be to get out, and cursed myself again for being foolish.

Goodbye