My prediction: one of the presidential candidates will win. Everyone loses.

Last night, I jogged with Talulah. It was a two-mile run around Graceland cemetery.

It’s been colder here, and on cloudy days with the time change, it gets dark at 4:30. We were out at 5:30, and every pant, steam came out of Talulah’s mouth. The dark makes it somewhat easier to see when we’re crossing under street lamps.

Her breath helps me keep pace.

With the cold, there’s an increase in snot and throat goo. I’m not a spitter when running during the summer. But the winter months bring loogies.

I spit once within the first mile careful not to hit Lu.

About a half mile later, I spit again with less precision than the first time. I hit Talulah’s mouth. She didn’t flinch.

“I’m sorry,” I said as if she’d understand an apology.

In another moment, the spit fell from her beak. We kept running.

That moment when the spit fell from her kept flashing in my mind, like a dreamy moment in a Terrance Malick film.

Over night, I kept seeing that image in my mind. Feeling a range of guilt to pleasure. It’s bizarre to see something considered awful to most of us become something meaningless to a dog. Something she shouldn’t flinch at.

There are many issues in this election season that are brought up that are meaningful to me. And there are many that are the spit falling from Talulah’s mouth.

Things that I find enthralling to enraging, others don’t flinch at.

As Americans, we’re running and running with leashes around our necks. Our candidate(s) is/are hoping that we’ll keep up. While it’s good for us to exercise, we are the target of spit and benefit.

The good and the bad.

Without the foil, we tend to have no hero.

The pessimist in me sees too much negative about this black and white idea.

The two-party system.

The idea that two dudes represent the whole of our pleasure and disgust.

The idea that we think it’s healthy to have one of those two encourage us to exercise our right to vote, and be spit on, and hope that we don’t notice.