August is the month that defines my year. It's not that anything special happens in August, it's just that when it comes around it's the sign that the year really is closer to the end than the beginning. People start talking about Christmas even Christmas parties. August is the last month of our winter and the time we start to look forward to a nearing spring and the summer it in turn heralds. And before you know it by the time you've thought about August it feels like the end of the year is here. But wait, there's so much to be done before summer comes along. And I still have that 6 pack to procure before it's warm enough to be meandering shirtless. Maybe it will happen this year. But it's August, have I left my run too late? I'm telling myself it's just another day in another year, which only has boundaries because we have constructed them. But it doesn't work, it's the end, the year is officially not new, not young, and there's so much to be done.
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