I haven't done this run for a while, and tonight's was a happy return. I consumed a lot of caffeine at around 7pm, violating my only iron-clad self-medicating policy: no caffeine after 3pm. Ever. Or, almost ever. I was a golden god from 7pm on, and my run took advantage of this artifical self-esteem and turned it into an all-consuming delusion of athletic indomitability which became especially acute as I neared the top of BH. I wasn't even close to my PR of 28-something, but I felt great and the run felt like an extraordinary success because what else matters, really? It was moonless and misty, and the top of Bernal Heights was dark, dark. In fact, I couldn't see the trail at all, which didn't bother me because I WAS A GOLDEN GOD. Plus, I was the only person up there, giving me a really good chance to belt out Ween's song "Piss up a rope" and "Jolene". So I raced up and down, got my heart rate up there, and arrived back home ready to solve all the world's problems. Was it possible to solve them while playing Grand Theft Auto? I guess we'll find out.