On a little mini-tour. Combining exercise and work, I hike three miles from the hotel to a coffee shop. Work on revisions for two hours, then hike back. Sunny day, clear sidewalk. Striding purposefully along a busy boulevard, I catch my toe on a crack and take a spectacular digger. One of those drawn-out forward-tilt scramblers where your feet desperately try to catch up with your forehead in the manner of a drunken triple-jumper, finishing with an intentional ferocious headfirst full-body lunge into a snowbank so as to avoid the concrete. Adding to the degree of difficulty, I was wearing a backpack. I leapt to my feet and hustled off covered in snow head to toe, and didn’t stop to check for blood until I got back to the hotel. There are raw spots, and a hole in the elbow of my shirt and the knee of my pants. It is the most spectacular thing I have done all month. You are welcome, Grafton rush hour traffic.
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