Sometimes what is right is not always what is rational.

Like tonight, when I ran right up until the minute the gym closed at 9 p.m., I should have driven straight home and eaten dinner.

Ok, I should have eaten dinner before I ran. And preferably something other than cereal or pretzels.

But at 7:45 I was hungry to run, and at 9:01 I was hopped up on endorphins.

So I drove instead.

Kept driving.

Windows unrolled, music as loud as I could make it, I drove waaay faster than I should have.

I did not check my phone at stop lights.

I did not think about where I was going.

I listened to the same, super-sultry song again and again.

When I felt like it, I drove home.

I didn’t feel like cooking anything, and I didn’t feel like heating anything up.

I ate frozen blueberries on the screened porch.

A lazy ceiling fan spun a pleasant breeze.

A cat prowled about, rubbed against my bare shins.

I noted the quiet, mourning wistfully the sudden departure of our 13-year cicadas.

I know I’m not the only writer who runs to escape her mind.

Tap the heart instead.

Turn on the parts that aren’t so sensible, and yield instead to the senses.

Light a torch and run with it.