I ran as hard as I could on this run

I ran as hard as I could on this run. I hardly know my own self. I am so fat. I used to keep it around 180 during my lean and fit years. Now, 208 is my regular weight. I get fatter in the winter, and lose a few pounds in the summer. I used to get mad at everyone around me on a run.

If I was running around Town Lake Trail, I would get mad at people who ran faster or slower than me, or people who came on the trail running at the same pace as me. People who walked when I was running or biking, and people running or biking when I was walking–I was mad at the world. I was mad at myself.

I used to get mad around here at pickup trucks that zoomed by going much faster than the 30 mph speed limit. Then, I would get mad at the occasional driver who did the speed limit–surely they were up to no good for driving so slow. I would get mad at people who left their dogs out all the time, as well as the idiot dogs themselves for barking so much. I would get mad at little groups of kids on their bikes, because they were surely about to start laughing their heads off at me, just like kids did when I was a kid. Then, I would get mad at all of the houses that surely contained kids who should have been outside exercising.

For whatever reason, such anger could propel me along pretty fast, pretty far. Of course, by the time I finished running, I would be exhausted from trying to keep track of all the people, pets and things I was mad at, and mad at them, too, for making me so exhausted.

I liked creating thought patterns in my head, assigning responsibility to those thought patterns to entities in the outside or inside worlds, and letting those thought patterns control me. I would blame the entities I assigned to the thought patterns for holding me prisoner to the thought patterns, and do as much mental gymnastics as needed to never accept responsibility for any of my own out-of-control thought patterns.

I don’t supposed I could have come into the light on all of my awful behavior without some help from psychiatric medicine, but I don’t really think that I will need psychiatric medicine or help my whole life.

Booze or food always promise to deliver a lot, and they only keep me satisfied for the duration that I am consuming them. And then, I am too physically full and not psychically full enough.

A lot of my writing was created by me being suspended in a state of indecision–keeping my options open and seeing others get what surely would have been mine if I’d only made up my mind–these were the fodder for many an interesting journal or blog entry.

Now, my writing is boring. I am boring. I don’t aspire to be a great novelist, short story writer or poet, and I don’t craft my writing as such. I try to put down what pops into my head, and then move on.

I ran as hard as I could for about a mile and a half, and then I started to feel the rough edges. That’s a mile and a half longer than I was able to do a week ago before starting to feel the rough edges.

Waco is a hard town to live in. People here are terse, taciturn and often suspicious of you. Why are you running about with a baby and dog in the middle of the day? Shouldn’t you be doing something manly–working in a factory or driving a truck? Maybe they don’t think this at all. It could be, that people are like people in bigger cities–they don’t care, and their heads are full of thoughts about where they need to get to next in order to maintain some semblence of survival.

Wacoans are mostly Conservative people who love Ted Cruz and are not the least bit interested in changing gun laws or giving Obama credit for helping them get access to better healthcare. Their interests don’t really dovetail with mine. I like books, and I like to read and explore various subjects as my hobby in addition to the books I need to read for my upcoming arrival at seminary.

The odd thing about Wacoans, Austinites and myself, is that I probably love Jesus just as much as many Wacoans do, and a huge amount more than most Austinites do. I just don’t find my love of Jesus naturally turning me into a Conservative. I agree with Conservatives on some things, like abortion and making America great again, but the way most Conservative Presidential candidates propose to make America great again is plain batshit crazy. I love Hispanics, and would hate to see us treating the undocumented ones like so much shit. Conservatives should love Hispanics as much, themselves, as Hispanics will be close to the majority demographic by the end of this century, unless China takes over and sends Chinese people over in mass waves.

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