Bruce Carter Am I

I dreamed last night that I was escaping from prison. I don’t know why I was in there, or whether I was innocent or guilty.

But I shimmied up an air vent to get out of the building. I ended up on a train full of ex-prisoners who were being sent… somewhere. The train had prison guards, and I had to make like I belonged, yet not let them get too good a look at my face. My alias was “Bruce Carter.” At night it was dark in the car, and I was fine. By day I pretended to sleep with a paper over my face.

No exciting conclusion though. Cursed alarm clock.

***

I work five days, then have a four-day weekend. I can’t freakin’ WAIT.

At this point, Whit and I are both hindered for the race, yet in different ways. My endurance is good, breathing is fine. It’s this leg that’s the problem.

His body’s holding up, but respiratory issues have dogged him for a while. I believe we should take a wheelbarrow just in case. I don’t know who’ll push it if we both need it though.

***

Is it nap time?