Yes, it has taken a week to get another run in. And it has been depressing, or at least it would have been if I had two moments to rub together to be depressed about it.
All summer, I ran. Every day, or at least every other day. I ran to stay alert, confident, positive, healthy, to keep myself firm, taut, to hold headaches at bay, to feel my blood running, to stay alive.
The Saturday morning plan was to rise early. I'd run, she'd write, then I'd write and she would do yoga. But I had longed for rest and I woke with a headache - the weekly Saturday morning headache. I had been struggling to get eight hours the past few nights, which was impossible. Up at 5.00, out by 6.30 - how to get to bed by 9.30? Impossible.
I hit the snooze bar once or twice and then just gave up, I was hating myself. Waste of a weekend morning. Complete waste. The entire weekend was going to be a race to keep up. Nothing would be accomplished, just a lot of running in place.
Last night my wife reminded me of my "tweet" on Friday. Pengo exhales. I just negotiated a summer arts camp, a fringe festival, a block party, and an extended rehearsal period.
The joints do not ache. The knees are good. The head does not ache (not much, not usually.) I am not having a heart attach any time soon. I have support, love, a job I love, ideas for the future. A home, smart kids, a spouse who reminds me of what I have accomplished, and not what I haven't.
Last night I wrote new scene, or rather, completed an old one. I haven't written anything new in what feels like ages. And this morning ... I went out for a run.
Listening to: PODRUNNER Classic - Velociraptor (181 BPM)
Distance: 3.25 miles
Weather: light rain, light wind ... and humid
Weight: 158.5 lbs.