Exploring Second Life is an amazing journey. Better than journaling, I'd say. This environment is so powerful, I suspect it is "the next big thing." I have been reading about making money in virtual worlds and how places like Ultima Online have these thriving economies. The 3.7 million residents of Second Life have spent $1.4 Million US dollars in the last 24 hours. ($22 of that was mine.)

What did I get for my $22? I got hair. Several different hair styles. AuntFun Ellison no longer looks like a noob! Funny how it didn't bother me that my avi had default hair until it really started bugging me. Then, she had to get clothes. Clothes with "flexi" so they would move as I move. Or, as AuntFun moves. It gets tough to tell the difference. And after I bought one dress with flexi, I had to get another. I actually have a favorite designer - Moodi. After weeks of being barefoot on the beach, I needed shoes. Tasteful sandal spike heels to wear with my new dresses. I feel like a Barbie doll. This is stuff I would never wear in real life!

Where does all this shopping get me? A crowded inventory folder. Countless vain attempts to organize it have been just that. Countless vain attempts.

I am staying up late at night shopping in a virtual world. Dressing up. Learning how to edit shoes. Learning how to zoom and spin. Learning how to walk up ladders. (I still fall down ladders. I haven't yet learned how to go down.) Will this investment in time pay off? Will this knowledge base get me anywhere? Scoff is you will. I might be getting fat, but at least my avi is slim.

I have been sick. It is no fun. While I have been lying in bed, The Musician has been gracious enough to play songs for me on the piano. He is quite good. He has secretly been working ahead in the music books - picking out the "pretty" ones to practice. And when he grows tired of playing songs from his music books, he makes stuff up. It is interesting to listen to him figuring it all out and putting the sounds together. He hates getting water in his ears. I suspect it is because he has special ears.

This morning he came in to me with a piece of paper in his hands. He told me that it was a song he wrote. Because he is preliterate, in the strictest sense of the word, I couldn't decipher the letters. I praised his writing and asked him to read it to me. He said that it was a song he wrote called "When You Feel Little, Lost, and Let Down." But he forgot how it went. It pained me to think that he would ever feel that way but I suppose it is part of life so I asked him what he did when he felt little, lost, and let down. He said "Go outside and ride my skateboard." To me, that sounded full of wisdom.

I had been embarrassed to tell my sister that I hadn't run since Carlsbad. It was hard to find time to run in Chicago, and what's more, my hip hurt. Then this past week I was sick. But she didn't lecture me about running anyway even when I am sick. Instead, she said "You earned some time off." Sometimes she seems to know exactly what to say to help me feel better.

This morning I laced up my shoes for a run of undetermined length, but I thought four miles might be about right. It was in the high 30s, so I wore tights and long sleeves, but no hat nor gloves. I was so excited and happy to be running again, I bolted out of the house. I sprinted down the street hopping a bit as I ran like those boxers in the ring ready for round one. I kept thinking I should slow down. I almost tripped turning to go up to the canal because I was so excited. Without a proper warm up, my breathing was heavy. Maybe my breath was heavy because I had been sick and my lungs were still holding on to more stuff than just air. I was bouncing with my arms out like a kid pretending to fly. I realized I was grinning from ear to ear. How I love to run! It was almost like I was discovering this fact for the very first time.

After a mile, my right hip flexor said "YO! REMEMBER ME?!" Crap. Why didn't I warm up? Why was I so excited to run that I was careless? I kept going, but not as fast and with my head down. At mile two I stopped to stretch. It's a tough muscle to stretch and too little too late. I finished up just under four miles and even though the last two hurt, the smile never left my face. My hip hurt the rest of the day. I am starting to wonder if I can make it to Boston. I should be putting in 40+ miles per week right now. And in the last two weeks I have run exactly 30.2 miles total.

It doesn' t matter. I love to run. That's what matters. I will rehab my hip. I will get back out there and be able to put in some glorious runs. I will reach the tippy top of the hill and bask in the sunlight.