Run Away Train.

Blissful, easy bareback ride on the Archman last night.

A whopping $20 off my board bill for feeding four times (only two horses - I guess that's fair).

Running is not the only thing I want to talk about, but it's the only thing people want to talk about with me.

Fake butter is still delicious.  Last night, I made something weird:  hot quinoa with fried egg, smoked chipotle gouda and California blend of vegetables.  Oh, and fried onions.  If I didn't devour it immediately and with great gusto, I would have taken a photo.

The movie we watched (while eating jelly beans and coconut curry cashews in lieu of passing any of that out) was sort of lame.  And slow.  A review had called it "Stephen King meets Disney."  D and I didn't know what to make of that, but it's lame horror.  Low-budget, too.

My anxiety, which comfortably sits at about 5 or 6 most days and can easily get as low as a 2 or 3 if things are going well, has been kicked up to a 7 or 8.  Every little marathon thing notches me up just a tiny bit higher.  Oh, and it certainly doesn't help that my job has a direct part in this damn thing, so I've been getting emails like crazy.

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