There was a cool, steady breeze blowing through my window this morning. Despite nearly ten hours of sleep, I wanted to stay underneath the covers.

I love this time of year: the crisp, dry days, the quality of light. But it’s impossible to ignore that winter’s creeping in. And in winter I cannot abide.

For now, though, autumn’s arrival is fine.

I’ve been running like crazy. Training has passed from difficult to impossible. Every morning begins with a run (except the one morning I ride my bike, and the one morning I take off). Despite my best efforts, there are very few Manhattan jogging routes I haven’t run: every permeation of Central Park (The Loop, The Ramble, The Reservoir), Riverside Park, East Side, West Side, Downtown. We ran twenty miles on Saturday. That’s like running from Times Square to the Short Hills Mall. So I’m constantly hungry, constantly sore, and constantly stretching.

I’ve been rehearsing for next Thursday’s show. Playing two sets (or one longer one; I haven’t decided yet) presents an opportunity to really tell a story. And when I looked down last night at the songs I plan on playing, a narrative really did present itself. I’m not sure whether I’d call it “20s & 30s,” “Before & After,” or “With & Without,” or “Hate & Love,” but there’s a story there. Come by Thursday night, see what you think.

I’ve been blogging like a fiend over at “Making ‘Mister Rogers & Me.’ Check it out if you haven’t caught up lately.

And work? Well. There’s lots to do.

What I really want to do, though, is play hooky. I want to sleep in, eat a big brunch, visit a museum, see a movie. A think I’ll get that chance. I typicaslly take off the day after The Marathon. Problem is, I have to run 26 miles to get there.

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