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9.02 miles   1:45:53   11:44 pace

This is going to be one of those, "She's thinking out loud things."  Bear with me.

It was super-nice of the bartender at Houston's to comp me my salad last night.  I dropped in after an event, thinking I'd grab something to eat and possibly a glass of wine.  I sipped my wine (Chardonnay?  What was I thinking?), making it last for an hour and still - no grilled chicken salad.  It was pleasant enough just hanging out and people-watching.  (A couple next to me was pretty hilarious.  She engaged me in conversation and we laughed about our love of Real Housewives television.)  Anyway...soon enough, Josh The Bartender realized I was probably starving and checked on progress from the kitchen.  What could have been an expensive, delicious salad turned out to be an expensive, free salad. 

The event?  Houston Modern Market at Winter Street.  I was invited to ogle the beautiful furniture and artwork.  I did.  I also met up with oodles of friends which always lifts my spirits.  I caught a fun fashion show featuring "Stop Staring" dresses, of which I've been a fan for a few years.

This is all distraction from the horrible news which has been playing out on every live-feed monitor within sight for the last few days.  Yesterday morning, I was met with less than enthusiasm when my frontal inhibition gave way to, "I'd rather not be watching when a cop is shot" as I declined to sit with the gang and view the manhunt unfold.  I can be such a Blurt sometimes.  (A Blurt is someone who tells it like it is and won't take it back.)

Last night I had a great conversation with a friend of a friend.  We'd just met.  I have no problem letting my Blurt out among this group of people.  Miles Davis has been credited with saying, "Fear no mistakes. There are none."  I doubt he was the first to say that.  The thing is, when I'm around some artists, I feel as if I'm around some of the most open, vulnerable, and welcoming people.  That allows me to be the same and some of the dialogue is simply fantastic.  Back to the conversation.  We talked about how we were moving on in the face of the latest tragedies and it was a continuum of moving on since 9/11.  We talked about the fears that we felt/feel and how we are attempting to stand up to them and also about standing up to outside pressures to isolate ourselves from perceived bogeymen.  What amazed me the most about this man was that he was born and raised in Boston.  His sense of grace was overwhelming.  And calming.  And reassuring.

So...moving on.  I'm in training for a Half Marathon.  I've entered a sanctioned 10K race that I'll run in 2 weeks.  The Green 6.2.  I'll drive over and pick up my packet today.  I'm not going to stop running in big races.  I wouldn't dream of it.

I'm more dedicated than ever to doing a great job at work.  I'm working on a huge project for Cancer Survivors and am waiting to hear if I've been granted a fellowship that will allow me to travel to Canada for further training.  Get it or not, the program will go on and I look forward to presenting much of my work to my colleagues soon. 

This is a fine, fine thread upon which we walk.  Some days I take a chance and I run along it's course which is stronger than I think and I'm surprised at how much latitude I'm given.

Being a witness to the breaks in the threads of others is something that shouldn't surprise me but it does.  Every time.  Our collective web was weakened this week.  As I ramble through this entry, perhaps being out last night wasn't so much distraction, but an attempt to build.  I'm not sure. 

That's the one thing I know with certainty today.  I'm not sure.  




©Michelle Scofield, April 20, 2013 All Rights Reserved