Monday, September 25, 2006

Fall

Outside the window dried leaves are half suspended in the breeze. It feels hot and cold at the same time. There is something sere, something mature and finite about today... a new, summerless quality.



Today, what matters the most, matters the least. Today I found out that my 14 year old dog has Cushings Disease. Today my net worth is thousands of dollars in the negative, compounding daily. If every cent I earned for the next few years went directly into paying down my debt I might be worth a fat fat goose egg. Today I realized that we wont be moving soon. Today I condemn myself to another year in this cabin, falling in and falling down, an entropic race between mold and gravity. Tonight, here I reckoned with all of it. I took to the tea cabinet, with honey, and valerian root. Pet the dog, rub my temples. Sometimes I will never climb out of this hole, it is mine forever.



But, as they say, I have my health. Except when I don't, like when I am busy looking at the blue sky and, oops my bones are bashed on the side of a mountain. Or like when I plummet into hypoglycemic organ hyperexcitablility, specifically of the brain, a state in which I sulk and pick fights, and from which I can be sheepishly cajoled with a slice of apple and a sharp word. While this is miserable to say the least, thankfully I have yet to slip into a coma.



But I have my health nevertheless. My legs and my lungs are strong and I will finish the marathon, and in fact will stun and amaze onlookers when I drop and give 20 after 26.2. Like it was just a warm up. I will finish with a keg stand.

THEY SAY THE MARATHON HAS BEEN DEVALUED, THAT SO MANY PEOPLE RUN MARATHONS THESE DAYS THAT ITS NO LONGER CONSIDERED A GREAT ACHIEVEMENT. He shakes the newspaper trying to fold it neatly and shrugs. THAT'S JUST WHAT I READ.

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