1. All week I was dreading Saturday -- the day of my long run -- because the forecast called for freezing rain and high winds. Why did the weather gods hate me? On Thursday, Stephen said, "why don't you do it tomorrow instead?" For some reason, the idea had not occurred to me. So I went on Friday, which was cold but clear, or much better than freezing rain and high winds. Then today (Saturday), I went on a shorter run after the rain had stopped. Sometimes the solution to our problems is right in front of us, I guess is what I'm saying. 2. This week there was an article in The Times about how distance running is actually a good "workout" (lol?) for the part of your brain that focuses on complex problem solving. REDEMPTION. They had done experiments with runners and non-runners, which showed that the brains of non-runners were basically rotting hunks of comatose flesh, whereas those of distance runners were firing neurons like a Pink Floyd laser-light show (for "younger readers," this was a regular thing in the '80s to entice freaks and burnouts to pay money to get into the local planetarium). Anyway, today I was thinking about how distance running -- particularly when you're outside -- is more complicated than it might appear at first glance. You constantly have to calibrate for pace (too fast and you'll die, too slow and you'll never finish) and nagging pains (the decision being whether to stop or "run through it") and constant dog-leash and dog-poop avoidance, which The Times euphemistically referred to as "navigation skills." In conclusion, distance running is, in fact, like playing a moderately complicated video game! 3. The problem with the brains of distance runners, however, is that while they/we are good at solving logical problems, they/we are not so good at "politics," which is why most distance runners lead lives of obsessive frustration. Running has many variables, but on the whole is fairly logical; the world, as you may have noticed, is not so logical (unfortunately/fortunately). 4. This week they finally opened the southern passageway from the Chambers Street A/C/E station (the one I take to my new office) into The Oculus, the $450 trillion transportation hub that opened earlier this year to replace everything that was destroyed in 9/11. I was pretty happy about the passageway, because it means I can now avoid the clumps of tourists that congregate at the top of the subway steps leading out to Church Street and instead walk through this beautiful cathedral (which I say earnestly, notwithstanding the fact that it's basically an upscale shopping mall). 5. It's hard to blame The Oculus for being an upscale shopping mall when the same could be said of the entire island of Manhattan south of 96th Street (and possibly 125th), not to mention the neighboring parts of Brooklyn and Queens. "Wow, there's an Apple Store in the Oculus!" -- so many people in 2017. (Disclaimer: I'm typing on an Apple right now.) 6. In non-technology related news, one of the orchids is blooming. 7. "Wowsville." -- Elektra 8. "I want a Macbook Pro for Christmas." -- Clio "Sad." -- Elektra9. "I used to be excited about the internet, but now it's depressing and I want off. Whatever. If you agree, be sure to @ me on Twitter/FB/Instagram/SnappyChat/LinkyDin" -- Dante and everyone else born before/after 2008 10. On my run today I tried to think about only moderately complicated things. 11. Like seriously, how is the passage of time even possible? I was almost fifty: so many Christmases come and gone. I remembered being eight and how excited I was on Christmas Eve to open one present, which was a tradition in our family. (Probably because I had annoyed everyone to death begging to open something.) That year I was beyond excited about getting the game "Jaws" -- which I knew about because 1) it was at the top of my list, and 2) I had seen it in my mother's closet, after sneaking in -- so that when she asked me which present I wanted to open first, I said "Jaws" instead of "the big square box" or something similarly nondescript. I remember the shame I felt when I said it, but if my mother heard, she didn't say anything and we all pretended it was a surprise a few hours later when I finally opened it. (It was a cheap, plastic game that in reality offered none of the excitement I associated with the tv commercial -- why were those kids so excited? -- much less the movie, so I learned my lesson: television advertising is a sham.) I'm not sure if it was that year or the next when I got "Merlin," which was an amazing electronic game that looked like a red telephone with nine flashing dots. I remember calling my friend to gloat about getting Merlin, but he got it, too. (Which is another kind of lesson.) 12. This year, my mother sent me some new running socks, a perfect gift for someone of my advanced age and sullen disposition. I was genuinely excited to try them out today, even if it meant going on my "morning run" at 1:00 pm. (Screw you, weather!) They kept my feet warm and dry and -- thanks to a lip attached to the back heel -- did not slide into my shoe the way some of my other inferior ones tend to do. 13. The years come and go, but one truth remains: Christmas Eve, even when it's raining, is the best part of Christmas.