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Still Crazy

It's two weeks since my GP said that I should rest for another two weeks, and I've had no pain for the last ten days. So, I'm going for a run tomorrow. Two miles. In two loops, so that I can stop after one mile if I have to. On a day that is forecast to be dry and sunny, so that I can stop and walk back if I have to. I am perhaps being overcautious about this, but I'd rather be paranoid for a week than on the bench for another month.

I got notification today that I had been unsuccessful in my ballot application for the Great North Run. I can't take a charity slot; I already have a charity and MSF don't keep charity slots in races. But I had been expecting that and so this frees me up to decide which one I'm doing instead. I'm thinking about Bristol. Maybe Windsor or Royal Parks. Glasgow was fun last year and I think it was a good idea to do the first one on home turf (and within hobbling distance of my shower and my own bed), but I'd like to get out and do a race that's new to me. The registrations for Bristol and Royal Parks don't even open until March, so I've got some time to decide and to see how my knee is actually holding up.

If you'd needed persuading that I'm certifiably nuts, my long-term goal is to do my first marathon during F1 year. In late 2012 or early 2013, probably. Probably not London.


It is difficult to know what to do with so much happiness.
With sadness there is something to rub against,
a wound to tend with lotion and cloth.
When the world falls in around you, you have pieces to pick up, something to hold in your hands, like ticket stubs or change.

But happiness floats.
It doesn't need you to hold it down.
It doesn't need anything.
Happiness lands on the roof of the next house, singing, and disappears when it wants to.
You are happy either way.
Even the fact that you once lived in a peaceful tree house and now live over a quarry of noise and dust cannot make you unhappy.
Everything has a life of its own.,
it too could wake up filled with possibilities of coffee cake and ripe peaches,
and love even the floor which needs to be swept,
the soiled linens and scratched records.

Since there is no place large enough to contain so much happiness,
you shrug, you raise your hands, and it flows out of you into everything you touch. You are not responsible.

You take no credit, as the night sky takes no credit for the moon, but continues to hold it, and share it, and in that way, be known.

- Naomi Shihab Nye

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