Today's run was a big fat bust.

I spent the weekend at the lake with my family. It was wonderful. There's something magical that happens on Lake Palestine. The water washes away my yesterday and the trees absorb tomorrow.

All that's left is today -- sorry run and all.

The past year I've wanted to make memories. Naturally, it's hard for situations to stick in my head -- the smell, the touch, the sound -- so I've tried really hard to make things concrete.

One of the things -- riding on the lake. For reasons I'm not sure of, my mind goes into mode memory making when I'm riding the tube. No, not the slalom, the knee board or the rocket... but the inner tube.

I think it's being so close to the water (and since I'm being pulled behind a boat, being so close to the wake.)

While being pulled today, I couldn't help but wish I had a waterproof camera. I wanted to take a picture to help me remember.

Don't have a camera, but I can try something else:

The sound --- it's the closest I'll ever get to being a hermit crab... folding waves, motor running... It sounds like the inside a seashell.

And since I'm lying on my belly, atop the tube, I can touch the wave at its crescent point. It's just a little reach.

It's colder up top with the waves than it is down at my toes -- When the boat's a' moving, and I'm a' riding, I can dig my toes in the water and send up spray.

It's the same physics that Fred Flinstone used to stop his car.

Except with me, I don't stop.

I can't wear my glasses in the water. They'd sink. So everything is fuzzy. (Maybe there's a little magic in that as well.) But when I put my specs back on, I can see again: My mom (normally) driving, kneeling on life jackets so she can see over the boat's helm. My dad, legs propped up on two seats in the front. He sits at the very tip of the boat, so when we're driving he's elevated above everyone else. The trees. The water. The houses.

It's a weird balance. I see things out on the water as blurry blobs, but know as soon as I put my glasses back on I'll get the details. I'll be able to see the bird's feathers and the dragonfly's wings.

Lake means food, too.

Which is why my run was less than what I wanted.

I ate a cow for breakfast and lunch. A cow and a pig. A cow and a pig covered in BBQ sauce.

Then I ate ice cream.

When I got to the first mile tonight, I could feel all of that food doing flip flops in my stomach.

So I walked.

The end.