When the temperature cooled down yesterday I stopped to go for a run. I found a delightful gravel road near the mile 419 Rest Area on I-90. So I changed and started running. Unbeknownst to me, the road I wanted wasn't accesible from the rest area so I had to duck a fence and scramble through some sagebrush to get to it, which I did. I enjoyed the run; there were interesting rocks, cows, cornfields, a river, and a canal to observe. On my way back I again ran the gamut from the road to the rest area: ditch, steep slope, sagebrush, rocks, fence. As I gracefully wove my body between two strands of barbed wire I thought, "basically, I could be Cathrine Zeta Jones in that one movie where she has to wear really tight clothes and make her way through a bunch of laser beams in order to steal something." And then I mis-judged my spacing and scratched my back on the barbed wire. So much for being smooth. After that all my smoothness ability disappeared. I left my sunglasses on top of my car after running and got two miles down the highway before remembering. Miraculously, I was able to retrieve them. Again, so much for being smooth.