Impatient for the TTC, I ran. Dufferin, Ossington, Grace(Christie), Bathurst, Spadina, they flew by. Dundas, College, somehow I'm at Bloor. Look at me go, endorphins battling alcohol on the issue of sobriety. What's left is a sort of clear perception surrounded by fog. As soon as the heart slows and the lungs return to your regularly scheduled flight, then once more that previous haze creeps in.
I didn't stretch when I got home. Somehow it seemed absurd. Stretches are for planned runs, for the athlete, not the drunkard.
I think I'll go make a sandwich now. Seems capital.