when the numbers fell off the clock face (and stuff)

I have been alternating back and forth between the new Pete Yorn album and the new Maroon Five album.

I do not understand why Pete Yorn is not super popular. He is a amazing, versatile songwriter who puts out one rock solid album after another. Check out For Nancy, or Burrito, or Crystal Village, or Social Development Dance, or Undercover, or Velcro Shoes. Why is he not on the radio all the time? I don't understand it.

And Maroon Five? They will never be able to pull you back from the abyss at 3:30 in the morning when your heart is sobbing and you want to crawl into a hole and never ever come out again, like U2 or REM can. But they will assure that you groove all day long. (But you don't have to check out any specific songs, because they are on the radio all the time and you're probably already familiar.)

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My alarm goes off at 3:33 every morning. As in every morning. The "33" is like a little private joke with myself, except that it's not funny because I still am getting up at 3:33.

I used to be able to get up a bit later than that and stretch and run and be on time for work. Now, I get up well before the dawn breaks and weave through elaborate aryuvedic rituals designed to (hopefully) get my system functioning (because of the digestive issues and all). Then I stretch. But there's no longer enough time to run (or whatever I'm doing that day), too, because the exercises I have to do for my knee take up too much time. And as it is, I'm now usually rushing in to work at the last possible second that can be considered "not late."

That, of course, means that I have to run (or whatever) after work. Which I hate. But whatever. And it means it's a challenge to eat dinner early enough that it doesn't mess with my insides too much (because of the digestive issues and all). And I won't even start on getting to bed at a decent time. I can't remember the last night I slept for more than four consecutive hours.

I'm really trying to figure something else out. Because this kinda sucks.

(I guess I could not do any of it - the running or the stretching or any of it. Except that I can't not do it. Does that make sense? I might as well try not breathing.)

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I was supposed to run a marathon today. At least, I wanted to. Then July happened, and my good knee became my even worse knee.

But yesterday I ran six miles. That's the furthest I've run since July. And, after the initial couple of "getting started" blocks, I felt good. Better than I've felt since July.

So today, instead of running a marathon, I made almond snickerdoodles, and Hubby made creamy vegetable soup. Then we went for a walk on the beach.

And it turns out I didn't really need to run a marathon today.

(It was too warm to run one, anyway.)

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