Lake lessons #1:

Go with whatever works.

Craving a cup of tea

The cygnets are on their own now - the three of them near the stiff reeds. Three pairs of white swans along the bank arc their wings to look like pretentious teapots.

Running Again, Looking for Deer

Sometimes inside, under the fluorescent lights, running intervals and trying to dance at the same time.

But there are still mornings running in the dark, hoping for a flash of life among the ghost birches.

Evenings running in the last light as it nestles itself in the moors.

Transition

We set the clocks back this weekend, which means running in the dark for the next 6 months, which means a half-year of slipping into my own head too often. Today I can't remember most of my run. I was not in the moment, but in the future or in alternate universes: drafting my resignation, making plans - returning to abandoned plans - reevaluating choices. Things that seemed so clear a few months ago are obscured by doubt's bright examination light. I have run this far and don't know anything. 

Except, maybe, that middle age far too often feels like a dentist's office.

101 #Seenonmyrun

Sheep, all facing the southern slope of pasture, individual and braced against the wind.

100 #Seenonmyrun

The night's wind has harvested most of summer from the birch branches and cleared the clouds from the sky. Three stars line up like they have this great idea - if only someone would pay attention. Up ahead a glow of white tail as though evolution planned this moment just for me: a white flag of determination.

99 #Seenonmyrun

The cynets still grey shadows of their parents. The sun sits lower and lower in the sky and autumn will dissolve into winter's white.