August 29, 2001

Yesterday, around 3 p.m., it started thunderstorming horribly, so a run after work was unfortunately out of the question. It was raining just hard enough to be yucky by the time I got home, though it wasn’t thundering or lightening anymore. So I decided to go this morning instead. It was nice! I hit the snooze button a few times, almost decided not to go, but then I figured it’d probably storm again this afternoon, and then I’d be screwed. So I got up, and went to the park at around 7.

Half of the park was closed off for resurfacing, so I just ran up to St. Charles and back down. But I really ran it! Both ways! When I got up to the St. Charles side, I walked a little, up to the sidewalk, and stretched, but then I ran back to the parking lot! I ran for at least 7-8 minutes each time, with maybe a 2 minute recovery, and I didn’t even feel all that bad. Had the park not been half closed, I probably would have gone around twice, but I really didn’t feel like going back and forth again.

Last night I had a really nice dream and I want to record it here, so I don’t forget it. It really has nothing to do with running. But anyway…I dreamed I was back at our old house (on Port Hudson, the house I grew up in and we moved out of when I was 17) in my parents’ bathroom, getting ready to take a bath (but I was still clothed.) I was the only one in the house, but then I heard a noise. I went out to investigate, and at the last minute, went into my parents’ closet to get something to defend myself with. Turns out, I grabbed one of my golf clubs that I got when I was little (the wood, as if it matters.) I don’t even know if I had my own wood when I was little, but I think I did. I went out into the kitchen, and there was Dad, bent over, putting papers in his briefcase or something like that. He was dressed like he was going to work, and there was someone else in the kitchen (some guy, don’t know who it was.) He stood up and I looked at him, and it wasn’t creepy or scary or anything, it was just normal. I looked him right in the eyes and he smiled and gave me a big hug. He was just as squashy as always, and it just felt so normal and nice. I can’t remember if he said anything to me. I feel like he felt proud of me for something. Maybe for quitting smoking, since that’s what probably killed him. Ironic then, that it was most likely a nicotine patch-induced dream. Ha ha!

Anyway, I woke up feeling good, like it was his way of visiting me and checking up on me, since I know I wouldn’t handle anything vaguely “supernatural” well at all.

Enough about dreams – might go running again this evening with Kristina. I won’t be able to go tomorrow since I’m going to Baton Rouge, so I should get it in now.

PS Whoever said running in the morning energizes you for the rest of the day was not talking about me. Hmmm.

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