Accountability -- Day 8
Here I am again, writing when it's near my bedtime. Not only that, the A's are on TV--and they're ahead! Accountability, indeed.
I didn't run today, but did ride my bike out to BART so I could get to Berkeley to pick up my bib for the Play Ball 5K at the Coliseum Saturday. I ran it last year with friends and had a great time--will be satisfied to run it solo this year and have a good time. Registration includes a ticket to the day's game. I'll probably go for a while but will need to cut it short so I can get ready to go to the wedding of my dear friend R. to her sweetheart. All in all, it should be a fabulous day. Running, baseball, and love. who could ask for more?
What I did: Per Map My Run, I rode my bike a total of 8.26 miles. Also, walked quite a bit in getting to and from the BART station to Sports Basement and also in getting from where I parked my bike in Pleasanton to the BART station there. I don't park at the station any more since I had a bike stolen from there last year even though it was locked up tight. My fit tracker has me at 14,771 steps right now, and I haven't even taken it off yet.
When and where I did it: See above. Will just say that while biking and walking aren't running, they are way, way better than a poke in the eye with a burnt stick. Just being out and moving is a blessing. I was a breezy, chilly day--head wind going north and tail wind going south, the homeward direction. The more I ride the bike, the less tentative I feel. I still sometimes freeze at big intersections, but try to just accept it without labeling myself a sissy as I hop off to walk across the street.
How it felt: Uh...see above. I give it a 7.
Photos: Should I say, "See above"? The one shot I really wanted was blurry and I didn't take two. I don't mind blurry, but draw the line at blurrrrrrrrry, so you're not seeing it here. From what I did choose you can note that I fell down on the job a bit in the job of producing fine aht. (That's not a typo--everyone knows lots of things are art, but they have to be special to be aht. If you drink wine at an aht opening, you can't use your pinkie while holding your glass. At a decent art opening, on the other hand--or both other hands if it's a really good opening--you have a large enough beer to need at least five digits to keep a grip on it).
While I was on BART I was engrossed in finishing my Charles Todd murder mystery and so probably wasn't looking at what was around as much as I sometimes do. How did the murderer convince his victims to drink the laudanum-laced milk? How were the victims connected even though they lived all over Britain? You could read the book, A Fine Summer's Day.
Tomorrow, the cosmos willing, I'll get another chance to dwell in the now. Yay!
Keep on running!
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| It was a BART kind of a day. Finished my book! |
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| Admiring the mind that paired these materials in the BART station. |
When and where I did it: See above. Will just say that while biking and walking aren't running, they are way, way better than a poke in the eye with a burnt stick. Just being out and moving is a blessing. I was a breezy, chilly day--head wind going north and tail wind going south, the homeward direction. The more I ride the bike, the less tentative I feel. I still sometimes freeze at big intersections, but try to just accept it without labeling myself a sissy as I hop off to walk across the street.
How it felt: Uh...see above. I give it a 7.
Photos: Should I say, "See above"? The one shot I really wanted was blurry and I didn't take two. I don't mind blurry, but draw the line at blurrrrrrrrry, so you're not seeing it here. From what I did choose you can note that I fell down on the job a bit in the job of producing fine aht. (That's not a typo--everyone knows lots of things are art, but they have to be special to be aht. If you drink wine at an aht opening, you can't use your pinkie while holding your glass. At a decent art opening, on the other hand--or both other hands if it's a really good opening--you have a large enough beer to need at least five digits to keep a grip on it).
While I was on BART I was engrossed in finishing my Charles Todd murder mystery and so probably wasn't looking at what was around as much as I sometimes do. How did the murderer convince his victims to drink the laudanum-laced milk? How were the victims connected even though they lived all over Britain? You could read the book, A Fine Summer's Day.
Tomorrow, the cosmos willing, I'll get another chance to dwell in the now. Yay!
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| Bonus photo. Was looking down while in Kauai last month. And four is my lucky number! |
Keep on running!
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