martinimade

Once upon a time, Lisa and Adrienne worked for the same alternative newsweekly. Now, both spend their respective lives mining their creative souls and leading hermit-like lives. And so an idea was hatched. Every week, one would send the other a sketch—either in illustration or word form—and the other would make a companion to the sketch. The result would be posted on both their blogs every week, just for grins. Even if the result isn't award-worthy, the exercise makes both minds more nimble. Hopefully.

Most Sunday mornings, I take a long run. 

Long runs are good for you. They make the short runs faster. But, oh, I do not like the long runs because they are just so dang long. 

Sometimes, I get lucky. I lose my chattering brain in the run and focus on my breathing and my footfalls and not much else.

Most of the time, my chattering brain does nothing but whine about my breathing and my feet and my legs and my sweat and my tiredness and my weakness. And on. I do what the yogis suggest, which is acknowledge the thoughts but pay them no attention. 

Kidding. That almost never works. I mostly tell my chattering mind to quit being such a pussy. That’s how I roll.

Last week’s run was one of those, where every step landed on a new complaint, causing them to squeak. I was in a foul mood by toward the end, disgusted by my own brain.

And, then, like a cliched benediction, the morning glories on the Baptist Church’s railings were in full glorious bloom; their bright blue faces were soaking up the early fall sun. 

Bastards, I thought. Way to ruin my self-pity.

Text ©Adrienne Martini; illustration ©Lisa Horstman. Until the end of time. Or something.