Guy on a bike, in passing, says to me,

“Good investment.”

I assume he meant running,

but who knows.

A few more feet down the path,

he fist pumps.

12 miles, 12:50 pace.

Tomorrow, I start training to be a mail carrier for the United States Postal Service. I’m still doubtful as to whether I actually have a job, mostly because this job search has been so unpredictable. I continue to assume the worst, but I’m feeling slightly optimistic since no one has said I don’t have the job.

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