I went on a five-mile run tonight; it took me an hour and I felt like I ran a marathon. There were some nice moments, though. I ran past my old house and through my old neighborhood, which of course got me thinking a lot about how things have changed over the years. Drizzle marked miles one, three, and four and a half, while I got to listen to a pianist practicing what sounded like Handel in the living room as I jogged by. I smelt new pine growing in, woodlands along the side of the road rotting, life fading away and renewing itself, and I thanked God for the existence of grey New England twilights like this.