Arthur Itis

My knees have been vexing me for the past week or ten days, almost as long as the resurgent plantar fasciitis (the latter is slowly ebbing now that I’m wearing new trainers, so huzzah! for that); this morning the knees and various non-obvious body parts that had adjusted to not-running all mounted a moment of resistance to my morning pace. Determined as I am to just plod ahead, though, I was not deterred, and after a mile or so everything settled down and I ran to a good pace (13°, clear and calm).

I was thinking about a post I’ll write soon, and the colleague who provoked me (in a good way) to write it out, and he used to blog but doesn’t much any more; and I was sad that where we all used to link to one another by deliberate composition — now the most we can do to make any kind of connection is to MacGyver some kludge involving Facebook or ExTwitter or (heaven help us) LinkedIn. It’s not up there with the climate catastrophe or the war in Ukraine, but it’s a small way in which we used to live in a better world, and I miss it.

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