Last night, a dream image of a Tibetan-like monk who casually walked off a red-rock setting, flowing robes and all, and flew, loop-de-looping, the maroon and yellow fabrics billowing out in the wide sky. Today, I did another 9 miler through the Seminole rez, and found that strange dissociative state where I seem to float just off the ground- flying.
It was good to connect with Marlon today, and swap training encouragement. Runners from anywhere speak the same language. We are chronically in love with the quest, the motion, the feeling of 'taking off.'
Feeling strong. Going long.
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