It's 2:31am and right now, I can't sleep.

Running ten kilometers is not the kind of thing you should really just wake up and decide to do. An event such as this requires training and discipline; neither of which are qualities I possess in any remarkable way. Yet I did, and as expected, it hurt. My right knee is in disaster recovery mode and every muscle below the waist is questioning what it did to be treated with such malice. Thrust into a world of unknown origin or purpose, I have asked my body to perform something that some might describe as remarkable. Others might just call it Tuesday afternoon.

This weekend also heralded the early demise of friends star and recent author Matthew Perry. After years of struggling with addiction, a seemingly innocuous afternoon in the jacuzzi ended in a sudden cardiac arrest. 18 months of sobriety and well on his way to utilising his life in a more meaningful, directed manner, only to be struck down by the pure ambiguity of the universe.

And then there is my partner's dog Mia. She's not as mobile as she once was and we both noticed it for the first time today. There was a time when she used to do laps of the backyard barking almost constantly at the slightest sound. She was so relentless, she cut a game-trail into the grass. She is a cattle dog so it is in her nature. Now, as the steady decline of age has set in, her body seems less willing to move to the door when we come outside.