In the words of one of my favorite childhood books, today was a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day. There were dissapointments, frustration, and self doubt in both the personal and professional fronts, and rather than check my training schedule to see how many miles I was supposed to run that day after work, I went back to bed and let myself watch two hours of stupid television while mindlessly shoving a peanut butter, brie, and turkey sandwich (it sounds weird, but it's really delicious) down my gullet. But just when I was about to let Netflix start another episode of OOITB, my sweet pup, Ramona, who had been snoozing next to me, jumped up suddenly and went to the back door, as if she knew I had already seen the episode I was about to watch and had had enough watching me laying around like a sloth feeling sorry for myself.
Which is exactly what I was doing. I drug myself out of bed and put on my running clothes, including a rain jacket, because despite it being the best summer month ever this is still Chicago and it's 55 degrees and raining. When she saw me up and dressed she started turning happy circles in the kitchen, like I was doing her the biggest favor by taking her out for an easy four miler along the lake. In reality, she was doing me the solid by not putting up with my bullshit, by encouraging me to take care of myself even when I don't feel like it at first, and reminding me that a run, even a rainy, cold, dark, dreary, one, can turn a bad day around and make you remember that running, like life, isn't about succeding every day, it's just about showing up. Thanks, Ramona. I owe you one.
 |
| "So are we running or what?" |
-Lora
No comments:
Post a Comment