So I went for a plod this afternoon, and it was better than usual. The ankles only muttered at me today, no screaming, and there were even some short stretches where I was running on autopilot. So, a little rhythm, for a change. Oh, and a Sign From God.

Okay, I don’t actually believe in angels, at least not the It’s a Wonderful Life kind or the Touched by an Incredibly Good-Looking Television Angel kind. (Why do we want angels to have bodies, anyway? Oops, hey, I can feel you starting to worry. This is Old Dog Year: My Quest for Midlife Guitar Glory. You haven’t stumbled into a theology ‘blog. Trust me. I know a really roundabout way to get there.) Besides, the guy with the sweatshirt was hunched over as he walked, and he looked tired, anxious and lonely.

But on the other hand, he was wearing a sweatshirt with “MUST” embroidered on the chest. I didn’t know whether it referred to a tech school or a personal imperative. (Or the stifling odour of attics or armpits.) Not that I’m utterly self-absorbed, not that the entire world exists to prop up my private obsessions, but even lonely old men in parks remind me that I MUST play my guitar tonight. So I will. Even I can read a sign like that. Day 20. (Only 345 to go.)