It's Friday morning. Three guesses as to what I'm doing. No, I'm not writing a "Poot" story, though that is on my list. No, I am not dressing for a big run, though I do plan to shuffle some today. Yes, I am in bed with Jeff and Luvie, but Baby Kitty just skipped out on us. It is not raining, but the coffee is good, the house is cool, and I can pretend the weather is Eskimo cold on the outside. I'm comfortable, my computer beckons, and I yearn to write. Writing, it's what I do now instead of shooting stuff anymore.
Besides writing, running, and reading-- the three "Rs"-- I intend to start loading my pack for Thursday. That's the day, the long awaited rematch with The Great Noxapater Journey Run. The countdown has begun. I feel like a little boy waiting for Christmas. I have a list made out. Will Santa bring my dream? Two years ago he left me with ashes and switches. But this time around I have been good. Or at least a little better.
We are now within that time limit in which the weather forecasts actually means something. I learned long ago that a ten day forecast was about as reliable as a triathlon bicycle on a gravel road. It just doesn't work. The five day forecast is pretty accurate. Days six and seven are an educated guess. Days eight, nine, and ten are a pure guess. That's just my opinion, but I'm right. Thursday is now seven days away and the prediction is for a high of 64 degrees with morning showers. I can deal with that. By the way, The Weather Channel App on my phone now has a 15 day forecast. Are you kidding me? I even heard one meteorologist say, "Anything over seven days is witchcraft." Yes, although I don't believe in it, I catch myself taking a pee from time to time. I mean peek, I take a peek at that long-range weather guess on my phone.
Just now, Baby Kitty has jumped up on an end table across from the bed and Jeff is having a fit. He wants all the cats on the bed. So do I, but I have learned that "you don't always get what you want." At least we still have Luvie, who is snoring like an old man sleeping off a night of drinking with other old men. I find Luvie's snoring to be soothing and not annoying at all. Cat snoring is not as soothing as cat purring, but I will take what I can get.
Another thing I ought to do today is make a phone call to Seldom Seen and see if I can ferry out some supplies. I need to drop off some Gatorade, gels, Moon Pies, and breakfast foods. This will prevent me from having to carry all that in my pack on day one. Eating my first meal of the day there will save me from going back into town for breakfast the morning of day two. For me, backtracking on a long run is disturbing, disheartening, dangerous even. It drives me batty.
Anyway, short story long, I am feeling the anticipation and that is a good thing. There is so much emotion in this for me, and the motivation for this adventure is multifaceted to the point that I don't fully understand it myself. That's OK. I'm done with trying to figure it all out. Now, I only desire to experience it. I want hours on the road alone with my thoughts. I yearn to stagger into the Masonite Cemetery in downtown Louisville and visit the graves of my great-grandfather and -mother. I want desperately to scratch this goal off my bucket list. It has been there a long long time.
Well, I have pretty much worn myself out typing, so I think I will take a nap now. Later, I will let you know how far I got today in making preparations for Thursday.
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