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fire+go+out

One of my favorite quotes. Though not a huge Rand fan, it is still a terrific quote. Haven’t quite figured out how, but I get inspirational quotes by email every morning. Odd since I’m not exactly the type. But hell, guess some weird karmic intervention occurred and they magically arrived to make my mornings slightly more upbeat. I have no idea. I do religiously read them, don’t ask me why. I can’t just hit delete like I do with the heap of other crap that finds its way into my inbox. Not sure what I think might happen if I hit that delete button. lighting strike? plague? who knows. But I just can’t bring myself to dump them, or hit unsubscribe. It is all just freakin strange. Anyhow, this was the quote in my mail this morning. Guess I’ll continue opening those emails every day.

After last weekend I’ve spent the week rundown and fighting off something. When I did my long run yesterday I knew something was amiss. But stubborn as an ox I ran anyway. predictably I woke up this morning sick. STOMP. CURSE. STOMP. Do not have time for this shit. I’m pissed off. My daily Airborne intake clearly didn’t work. Not that I think it does, but I have headed off a couple of colds with it. So here I’m pissy and have a bazillion things to do. Hope it is a short-lived one. Guess the impending illness may have been what was keeping my mood so dull and me very unmotivated. I chalked it up to being tired after racing. But this week it was all I could do to get anything accomplished. There is a list longer than my arm of projects that need doing and finishing and I’m wandering around in a haze. Well least I can blame getting a cold. Sure I will come back around to where I was.

It is hard to shake that feeling I get as I watch the first leaves start to change and fall to the grass. It is an anxious foreboding I can’t shake. It sits on my like an old damp shirt, clingy and cold. I can’t warm up and get away from it. The sad thing is part of me loves the fall. The bite in the evening air. Pulling out sweatshirts to curl up and watch TV in. The beauty of the trees in their dream-coats that explode and come alive almost overnight. For us it starts in the wetlands, the little scrub brushes and young trees take over as the loose strife’s bright purple fades and falls away into the dark water. The entire wetland becomes a sea of yellows, reds, ochres, and oranges. It is a beautiful sight. I can’t help but look out and see that exquisite landscape. It surrounds us on two sides. Within weeks the deciduous trees take up the charge and they too become gorgeous in their hues. But it never lasts. It is bittersweet. The hard bite of frost and the cold windswept rains take away the colors leaving barren grey acres behind. It is a cold lonely landscape that will fall into a deep freeze till spring rains arrive to release us from the chill. I don’t hate fall, I fear it. I have had the worst of times in the fall. It is understandable I find the change difficult and the feelings of foreboding valid. What I need to keep in mind is not every fall is a disaster. Not every year will be difficult. Some have been fine. The hardest part is not knowing the difference, and not being able to convince my chicken little brain that it might be okay. It is a rough time as I scramble to figure out what this year will bring, ever vigilant watching for the signs of change amidst the falling leaves. It is okay, this is how I survive. So I continue to take stock and look over my shoulder as the days get shorter. Ever wary ever watchful. Will this be a good fall? or…

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