I’m going to be honest: I had only run once since the half-marathon. I can feel it in my legs…and moreso, I can feel it in my waist-line. I can give you a thousand excuses why I hadn’t made an effort to get out before the sun, but this week I couldn’t take it anymore. It has only been a few miles at a time…but it is something. And its good.
On this sleepy Saturday morning I was just finishing up my run (admittedly, I was tired) and was distracted by the sound of light-hearted guitar cords from across the street. The business with the red awnings always had music, even at that hour. I was stopped short as the bass began. I recognized the song–U2. “Where The Streets Have No Name.”
Yeah. Please add this moment to the movie you make of my life.
I want to run – I want to hide
I want to tear down the walls that hold me inside
I want to reach out and touch the flame
Where the streets have no name
How perfect. How sacramental. How very TOB.
Keeping Awkward in Style 
Coincidences like that are always a joy. It makes you smile for the rest of the day just cause something little and weird like that happened.
Things like this make me miss a city. Then I think about being out and about in Macon in the early am and I always see people who say “Hi, Paul” and think, this is pretty nice. I’d also say TOB but I don’t know what it means.
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