It's not the Geese, it's the Honking that'll kill ya.

Going through town with brain injury is always a gamble. We live in a mountain metropolis of 700 year-round residents. I was running through our town park's parking lot when someone decided the geese weren't moving out his way quick enough and he honked his custom fake and bizarre horn right beside me. That was it. The end of my run. The sound had overloaded my brain and I couldn't take another step. I called my wife to come get me, though I could see our house a mere 50 yards away (the route I was running is an out and back, out a different way and back, so half-way was next to our home).

I don't do it very gracefully and it's a struggle, but I try and say a quick prayer of blessing on folks who short-circuit me. They are, after all, simply going about their lives without any idea how what they're doing effects me. And I'm thankful they don't have any idea -- because the only real way to know is to have brain injury and that's not something I'd wish on anyone.

So, I've now done my inversion table (which helps increase blood-flow to my brain and helps me recover a bit from short-circuiting like this) and am recovering in my sanctuary of a "hobbit hole" -- a room we have sound proofed and made so it has minimal sensory input, which allows me to focus on whatever I am working on.)

Today's miles: 3.5
Total: 30.5