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Second first marathong

I understood why a runner would want a buddy if they couldn't smell their way around a marathong course, but I didn't understand why there weren't a ton of other people fighting over who got to visit Michigan.

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Manscaping

Today there were runners just like always, but the stray humans were awake, and the workers had been replaced with tourists waiting for the boat to Alcatraz and asking each other if the bridge was being painted. The tourists lined up across the sidewalk like bowling pins for me to run through them and cause selfies they would never forget.

Untouchable

Mom said, "DON'T!!!" and Karen froze. Then she stood up and walked right over to the sink and started washing her hands. I didn't know what happened, but it made me feel very lonely to have my friend Karen treat me like she didn't even know me all of a sudden.

Rules

Since Mom was already off balance, my jig pulled her off the one leg she was standing on and she kicked the packpack of the lady crouched down to take a picture, and shouted a bad word, and then told the lady it was my fault that she'd ruined their picture.

Return to the Fourth of July

Even though the trail was the same, we were very different. Mom had just claimed her independence and was still recovering from her revolutionary war when we were on this trail last year.

Use it or lose it

I followed her and watched where she was going so that I would know where to climb and what rocks she wanted me to jump "up-up" onto. Mom was climbing like she was walking through a dark room; putting her paws carefully on the ground and holding on to rocks like she didn't expect the ground to stay where it was. "Mom, what are you doing?" I asked. 

My New Trail

My New Trail starts in the neighborhood where the ocean lives. I paid extra attention to signs of what kind of neighborhood it was as I patrolled my new turf and surf. The ocean must not be a good neighbor, because it had worn the paint off of any house that wasn't paying attention, and wherever there was metal it had tagged it up with bubbles of rust.

Unstuck

Our stuck house is very small, only about the size of a hotel room, but Mom insisted on keeping her big dreadmill inside it. That’s called “priorities.”

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