Tuesday: 6.18 Miles and 56 Minutes.

I ran it out. 

I didn't run from the day or toward an open field of peace. 

I didn't run so far that my doctor's eyes would roll or so fast that my overpronating right foot ached. 
[The overpronating wobble explained: 
http://www.runnersworld.com/article/0,7120,s6-240-319-327-425-0,00.html]

I just ran it out.

In that sentence "it" equals:  bad news; anxiety; impending document review; the tiny lines around my eyes; a forgotten dental appointment and the consequential nasty voicemail; a lack of control over the day; utter failure to meet an important deadline and an inability to express any of this in words. 

Thankfully, silence, a little country music and anything over six miles can turn a hornets nest of a day into a reminder that I am the co-author of this novel starring clowns.