I'm in the great big club cheering for Phil Mickelson to win the U.S. Open. I just got in from walking and jogging the Fort Roots Loop with the Geezers to see he's two strokes off Matt Kuchar's lead of 3-under. The coverage on my laptop is lovely, at least as sharp as my television. Bill Brass and I went a total of 5.85 miles up to, across, and down from Fort Roots, in 1:42:23. We jogged 1.7 miles of it non-stop in 19:22. I'm not sure what's more interesting to me—that my jog today at a much slower pace was ten times harder than my run last night, or that my jog today was ten times easier than a similar one-mile run with a Brass a couple of weeks ago.
This evening I walked the Ghetto Cat Loop in 34:34. My pulse rate was never over 96. I should walk so slowly more often.
OVERHEARD
"I don't understand it. Some guys says he went for a trip on Friday the 13th and and had a wreck that killed his wife and his kids and his dog. I mean, why would you leave the house on Friday the 13th?"
—my backyard neighbor Merle Malone, as we dug stumps by the fence between our yards. He said he stays in on Friday the 13ths, and consequently wanted to get those stumps out today
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