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.