4 miles (12:57, 13:54, 14:32, 14:54) on the jesus etc. course. Think I’m strolling for a while. On the bright side, there were no old jazz players out. Body still won’t play. Beats me.
I saw that it was 116 in Phoenix today. I miss that feeling of walking out and feeling the oven door open on my face. The searing wind, the blue sky with the ominous wall of clouds on the horizon, the TOTAL LACK OF HUMIDITY. The saguaros. The little single-track leading up the side of the mountain. “There is something about the desert,” Edward Abbey wrote. “There is something there which the mountains, no matter how grand and beautiful, lack; which the sea, no matter how shining and vast and old, does not have.” I want to go home. Please save my place, Mr. Abbey.