A month after I left my watch at his dad’s house after the Newburyport Homecoming 10 Mile Race, Chris dropped it off at a secret rendezvous location under some trees next to a staircase on Mass Ave., where I picked it up on my way to work. We hadn’t been able to connect, and I was getting ready to buy another watch, but I thought I’d suggest a dead drop in the style of the great “leave the Wilco ticket in a crack in the wall on Landsdowne Street and tell Michael how to find it when he calls me” scheme of 2002.

It’s good to have the watch back, to know exactly how long my long runs are taking. I’ve got a 16 mile run scheduled for this Sunday, which will be the longest distance I’ve ever run, by a few miles. I’ve been obsessing over the marathon lately, buying more gear, trying to imagine what it will be like to run 26 miles, but I’ve been distracted by things small (the Yankees’ current dismal slump; can it get any worse than losing 22-0 last night?) and large (the looming election and the lumbering Republican disinformation machine that, when combined with voter apathy and ignorance, keeps me awake at night and threatens to send me into a deep funk). I’ve got only a month to go on the marathon; hopefully I can keep it together and focus on that, and spend the rest of October fretting about the future of the country.