Seven Miles Before Breakfast

I did not want to run.

An object at rest stays at rest.

Still, an object in motion stays in motion, and I put in an hour and 20 before breakfast, on half a thyroid. Not fast, but finished.

Last night, I bagged the run because there seemed some small hope that I might actually sleep. For the first time in months, I slept deeply enough to have and remember a dream. Here it is:

I was with a group of friends at my aunt and uncle's house, and we were hanging around their pond. The pond had muck in it, so we didn't go in. Time passed and the pond cleared. We were happy and decided the water was clean and safe---only to discover that it was only clean and safe in a very small area, and that two-thirds of the pond was still contaminated with blue-green algae.

Ah, to sleep, perchance to dream? Me thinks insomnia has its advantages.

Have I mentioned Lake Monona is full of sewage? My run gave me time to ponder the question: how does one discern the difference between courage and stupidity? Is it brave to swim in Lake Monona, or just stupid? Pulling someone out of a burning car is brave, in part because of the potential gains and risks. Swimming in Lake Monona, well, begins to not look like pulling someone from a burning building but instead like covering yourself with kerosene and lighting a match. Brave? Stupid.

Of course, it won't be the only stupid thing I have ever done.