Karma kills. At least when you’re an asshole.
Admittedly, I was an asshole to the dog yesterday. This schmuck Dakota County Sheriff who was like 18 years old was driving a 4-wheeler through Lebanon Hills and “SIR! SIR!” stopped me mid-run. Said I’m not going to cite you today but you know that dog is supposed to be on the leash. So I yes yes yes. Then I put Tacoma on a leash, and he pulls the whole time like this is the damn Iditarod. I curse and tell him not to pull then call him a dumb damn dog and he must hear me, because today one of those mower trailers that trucks pull behind swung across the lane and shredded my front right tire on the way back from my morning lake swim. I knew it was karma because that’s the first thing I thought. I need to be nicer to Tacoma.
With the donut on, I drove home and said Tacoma Tacoma? And then I said I’m sorry for being a dick yesterday and I gave him a treat. And his demeanor was like yeah right asshole actions speak louder than words. So I went out for a second job interview at Black Sheep coffee and then got the tire replaced at Discount Tire for $92 and when I came home I was decent and we seem to have reached an accord.
Tomorrow and Saturday I am working a North Face event at Afton Alps which I’m thrilled and not thrilled about. Thrilled because I hope to meet some cool like minded folks and not thrilled because I have a fetish for sleeping in my own bed. But sometimes you do things the tribe needs you to do. And in this case, the tribe is the family and the family could use the $600.
The morning swim was dope. My fourth loop around the lake. I went to bed at 7:10PM to get the requisite sleep. The solstice time of year means 5:30AM is light light light. Still get to watch the sun slip up over the horizon from the water, though. Fingers didn’t go numb today. Cough is lingering, but almost gone. Had to ask a runner to zip me up. First runner shook his head, like I was asking for change or something. Second runner stopped.
My dad is writing a competing blog, unpublished on social media. Which is probably more honorable. Discussed the deeper meanings of swimming, and family swimming. If dawn is the holy hour, then dawn swimming is the holiest of holy. You can’t fake it. I mean you’re immersed in the water and things become what they are. You can’t lie to yourself. Your pecs and biceps get tired. If you get too tired, you’ll drown. This thing is bigger. Stop lying. I was a dick to the dog.
If car accidents when no one gets hurt are the universe’s slap on the wrist for being a foul mood moron, then lake swimming at dawn is the therapy required to get over the I ME MY run around. If that makes sense.
The upstairs neighbor is vacuuming again.
My oldest sister said 7 minute miles for a marathon may be to fast for her. I asked her about doing Twin Cities Marathon together in October.
Dad says he’s ready for two laps around the lake. Just needs bananas and tea with honey on the dock.
I had chicken sausage and coffee and avocado and walnuts for breakfast.
Now I’m slurping Ezekiel cereal with almond milk.
There’s a breeze and the windows are open.
I have a double header soccer game tonight, which I’d like to skip but Kate says we owe it to the team. I’d rather go back to the lake and have another lap but Dad says the police will come because the boaters will call the cops because they don’t like when swimmers leave the designated swimmer area.
Ball and chain.
Peace with the dog.