3.15 miles
2 trails
66 degrees
humidity: 84% / dew point: 62
The temperature isn’t that high, but the humidity and dew point are. Now, having finished my run, sitting on my deck, I’m dripping sweat while the trees drip rain from yesterday’s showers. Reminds me of a poem I just memorized, “The Social Life of Water” — All water is a part of other water and All water understands and Puddle has a long conversation with lake about fjord. A line to add? Sweat sings a duet with tree while deck listens.
oh no! Still sitting under the tree, the wind suddenly picked up and it began to rain drips all over my keyboard.
A good run. My left hip felt a little sore or tight. Listened to dropping acorns for most of the run, then put in a playlist for the last mile.
10 Things
- Mr. Morning! called out good morning! from across the road — he was on the river road trail, I was running on Edmund. Good morning! I called back
- the bright headlights of a truck parked on the wrong side of the street
- most of the dirt path was wet, a few parts were muddy, but one stretch was loose, dry sand — how had it avoided the rain? was it sheltered by a big tree?
- the river was white through the trees. It waved to me in the wind
- the coxswains’ voices — first, a deep one, then a higher-pitched one — drifted up from the river. I tried to find the boats, but I couldn’t — less about my bad vision, more about all the green blocking my view
- brushing my elbow against some leaves on the side of the trail — wet, cold, refreshing
- a chattering of sparrow lifted from a lawn as I ran by
- another regular — the woman with shoulder-length hair who walks and always wears a short sporty skirt with sandals. This might be the first time I’ve seen her this summer
- a minneapolis parks riding lawnmower hauling ass on the bike path — wow, those vehicles can go fast!
- almost forgot — acorns! thumping the ground every few seconds, littering the trail, some intact others already ravaged by squirrels, crunching under car wheels
The early signs of late summer / coming fall are here: dropping acorns and the dull din of non-stop cricket chirps.