Freedom 45, where are you?

it being 14 above today and me not working well anyway, i went for a run in the river valley. at 2:15 the only people about were the blue-rinse crowd. they tend to be friendly but i am not. i am angry and resentful. i fantasize about retirement all the time, even though i live in a world where no one wants to retire. my people, the academic tribe, boast about never wanting to go. this suggests that most academics have a better worklife than i do, or a higher pain threshold.

but i digress. when i get there, to freedom 55 (okay, 60: i really don't think i can make it to 65), what will i think of this moment in my life? will i remember what it's like to be buried under unanswered emails and unfulfilled expectations? will i recall lying in bed all night fretting about the work to come? will i feel the panic about teaching, the panic about grading, the panic about missed deadlines and eleventh-hour demands? will i remember feeling pissed on by all the dinks in the world?

or will i think: she ran so fast, then, and missed it all.