'tis that time of year when the weather makes a resolute turn, and tepid skies displace bouts of spitting snow. so on friday i headed out for my inaugural jog of the year, a scenario which ends, invariably, with me choking down a hefty slice of humble pie.
i seem to replay the same scene from this tragicomedy every year. you’d think i’d know the lines by now, but nope, it still surprises me. i’m coasting along, joints loose, breath easy, inwardly gushing at the opalescent sky and flowering shrub trees and how the evening sun sheens the whole neighborhood glittery soft. and then it happens: precisely at the one mile mark i am seized with the distinctly horrifying urge to toss my cookies for all the good townsfolk to see.
and so i wilt for a moment on the grass, pretend to stretch whilst fervently beseeching God to please keep those cookies where they belong lest i become the first person in the history of public exercise to die of acute embarrassment.
the sheriff rolls by in his brown car, surely wondering if he needs to bust out his resuscitation skills. it’s all i can do to smile and eek out a nod.
after the waves of nausea calm, i start back home at a far less perky pace, my muscles aching with a mix of humility and lactic acid and the reminder that this? is maybe what happens when one hasn’t run since last september. right. got it.
i have learned my lesson, and shall never again set out at such a jaunty clip first run of the season.
at least not until next year.
this week's thankfuls:
133. may. is. HERE. (t minus twelve days till we leave to meet our youngest)
135. snaking afternoon bikes along the driveway, sans jackets
136. the way em says 'tithes'
137. balmy walks in borrowed shoes with a friend who dreams in a familiar frequency
138. an email laden with affirmation
139. a God who gives us a part in this magnificent adventure
Soft dolls - recent magazine and blog feature
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