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River 15k run! Cat pics! Poem.

So if the old adage all work and no play makes Ben a dull boy, does the opposite no work and all play make Ben a super cool fantastic dude?? Just curious…

Went for a stroll down by the river today. Lovely weather if a bit of a chill in the breeze. Was in no hurry, no need for Speed just wanted to get out and go.

Today’s graph as I didn’t take my bike to the park I had to huff it down and back up the wonderful little hill.

Same lake as the other day, just a different angle.

15k in an hour thirty five with the climby bit thrown in. 

Cat pictures! What was I thinking it’s been too long!!

It’s difficult when you can only use selfie mode on your phone! But there she is, Queen of all she surveys HRH Koko. 

I went back to the same poet from Tuesday, as I mentioned that I had never heard of her (I read a lot of poetry so it’s always a great surprise to find someone I have overlooked and who is just so dawned good at what she does!). 

My dad & sardines

my dad’s going to give me a self

back.

i’ve made an altar called

The Altar for Healing the Father & Child,

& asked him what i could do

for him so he would

do nice for me. he said i should stop

saying bad things about him &, since

i’ve said just about everything bad

i can think of &, since . . . well,

no, i change my

mind, i can’t promise

him that. but even healing is

negotiable, so, if he’s in

heaven (or trying

to get in), it wouldn’t hurt

to be in touch. the first thing i want is to be able to

enjoy the little things again—for example, to stop peeling

down the list of things i

have to do &

enjoy this poem, enjoy how, last night, scouring

the cupboards, i found a

can of sardines that

must be five

years old &, since i was home after a long

trip &, since it was 1 a.m. & i hadn’t eaten

dinner &, since there was no other

protein in the house,

i cranked it open & remembered that

my dad loved

sardines—right before bed—with

onions & mustard. i can’t get into

my dad’s old heart, but i remember that look

on his face when he would

load mustard on a saltine cracker, lay a little

fish on top, & tip it with a juicy slice

of onion. then he’d look up from his soiled

fingers with one eyebrow

raised, a rakish

grin that said—all

for me!—as if he was

getting away

with murder.

Okie dokie folks enjoy the rest of your week, I have a mountain running date thing on Saturday. That should be awesome!!! 

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