Despite my best efforts, despite myself, I keep going to bed too late on work nights. Last night it was talking with Nicole on her “luscious back porch,” which meant I didn’t get to bed by 10:30 as planned, but rather 1:30. With a wake-up call of 5:30.
Don’t worry, though, I just slept right through that, waking up 7 minutes after I was supposed to already be at work. Which meant: pants on, glasses on, shoes on, frozen quinoa muffin in the purse and RUN. Literally–1.2 miles at 6:30 am.
Life is strange and unexpected, Friends.
All I could think was “Good thing I’m a runner,” though later I realized the greater blessing was that I’ve learned to roll with the punches.
I wasn’t even upset, just…tired, thirsty, and running. Because what other choice was there? And I almost never turn down a chance to burn calories, Friends, let’s be honest.
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Lately I can’t get enough of walking, of taking my sweet, sweet time. Because it allows for adventures like “oh-no-left-the-bike-at-second-work-guess-I’ll-have-to-run.” And time to stop and smell the flowers, by which I mean: look down and take pictures on the long walk home.
I think I may be falling in love again. With Life.