“Almost nothing important that ever happens to you happens because you engineer it. Destiny has no beeper; destiny always leans trenchcoated out of an alley with some sort of ‘psst’ that you usually can’t even hear because you’re in such a rush to or from something important you’ve tried to engineer.”

— david foster wallace

—

It occurs to me that I have NO idea what will happen in October.

We make up this nifty plan with preconceived strategies and mileage and routes and recovery time, and it will all go out the window with one solid Mike Tyson punch to the face.

“Destiny” seems a bit of a stretch. More like wishing upon a star on a particularly cloudy night. But you can wish nonetheless, yeah?

The 20-12-12 combo went OK if you pretend it’s not two weeks away from the big deal. And I’m pretending like crazy. I’ve already used up the lame covid excuse, so I guess it’s happening. Crossing fingers for berserk Waymos on the way to the course, but there’s never a good disaster when you need one.

It all seems so easy on paper. Run my brains out every day in October, goof off for a couple of weeks, run Fat Ox, goof off for a couple more weeks, bask in the triumph of Across the Years. It’s like a cheesy Hallmark movie except I’m not a female executive from the big city visiting my small Midwest hometown over the holidays when I run into my high school sweetheart with whom I broke up over a misunderstanding and where the heck is that mistletoe anyhow?

Downside: Summer has decided to make a curtain call, so I’m starting to worry that it won’t be too much cooler in October. Rethinking the Chewbacca costume.

Upside: It looks like this week will be almost 80 miles, which seems like a lot until you look at the planned October numbers. But maybe that’s what Mr. Wallace is trying to tell me. Don’t be in a rush to or from something important you’ve tried to engineer. Just let it happen. Like the song in the Hitchcock movie sung by that Kay Sera character.

None of which explains why David Foster Wallace hanged himself. Destiny, I suppose. Although I’m sure the Hallmark version will have a much happier ending. Also a precocious child, and an aging but immaculate pickup that will fail to start at an inopportune time.

13 days away. Whatever will be will be.

Still, I wish I had a beeper.