The lure of the wet wilderness was stronger than Walt's words of caution for an injured foot. I snuck out while he was in the shower after he ran (gulp) nine miles. In the parking lot a distance runner carefully clutched a string of patio lights, yellow-green orbs of power water. At mile 1.75 two young runners in a pack, passed me. I vowed no more and sped up to hold off four other runners behind me. So much for that light run coming off an injury. The four mile trail run was a release that felt like I smashed a bottle of frustration. Aghhh, that felt good.
Today I found something that is making me consider writing YA nonfiction instead of mid grade. I reread version #870 and #871 of the article due to be published in December. Quite frankly, I like the longer version better. Hm.
No comments:
Post a Comment