Are we really sure that the great surrealist painters weren't just sleep-deprived?
In my drive for end-of-month work completion, I had very little sleep a couple nights ago, but I still had to get up and do my Thursday run, which was fortunately only three miles. I felt like I was running in a dream, and not a very pleasant dream at that. The run went well, and only got weird right after it had ended.
As I turned onto my street, I took a look at my house, and for the briefest of moments, I swear it looked like Salvador Dali had done the painting. Everything warped a little, and it made me think that maybe these masters weren't innovative. Maybe they were just really sleepy. What if Picasso just had a very uncomfortable bed, and what he painted was actually what he saw after three cups of coffee. Maybe he was the best realist painter of them all, and what he really needed was a nap.
Unlikely, perhaps, but these are the things that go through my mind. Today, I was a little more rested, and even got to take a pup out with me, though she didn't last very long. It's getting hot down here rather quickly, and even in the early morning, it's no world for pups to run very far. I took her back home and headed back out to complete the meager mileage.
Back on the road, all I could think about, naturally, was next week. I rearranged some scheduling items in my head based on some changes in the plans of others. I thought about the forecast for the day of the race (currently H74/L57, 40% Prec), and whether I would be happy or sad about the rain. I began creating a packing list, but decided it was way too early to start thinking about things in that level of detail. Mostly, I was enjoying the reduced mileage, but remembering the reason for it.
Because one week from tomorrow, I'll run my own masterpiece.
78 degrees, sunny