I am not sure if Trout Fishing in America is one of my favourite books of all time or if it’s the worst book of all time. It is magical and non-sensual but somehow embodies a type of logic that I intuitively understand.
I feel similarly about running, in that I am not sure if it is my favourite thing to do or if I hate it.
A good paradox is hard to come by, and since every few years I come back to Richard Brautigan’s little book, and I keep running , must mean that on some level this book and that activity resonate in my soul.
Up at 5:00 this morning for a light 5k run. Hips engaged, core active, glutes slightly flexed…knees bent (always) with all my focus on my form. I mostly think about protecting my knees which have been a problem in the past – not so much recently, probably because of all the hard work fixing my posture and hip tightness.
Starts are out, well some of them since the small city lights hide the majority of the apparent balls of fire. Almost too early for the birds except a few early risers. It is peaceful and different.
To stay present I count my breaths. 197 was my best today.