It’s a misty, foggy morning here in Fly Over, America. You need to wear neon if you’re gonna run. You need upbeat tempos and an ability to see the beauty in things dying in order to stay motivated. I see it. The biblical grain of wheat (in this case, beans, I think) falling to rise again. The Wildflowers’ last hurrah. There will come a day when I can no longer do this, but today is not that day. Seven and a half miles through my neighborhood. I love it.