Stormy Weather
The weather is unstable these days--both globally and personally. I had some death and dying dreams last night, and awoke with my resting pulse about 10 bpm above normal. Ugh! My mind/body unrest reflects my questioning the soundness of my daily decisions and the soundness of the decisions of that man in the White House. I've decided to trust us both to act as responsibly and morally as we can.
On my way back I saw (and heard) a fat robin. Spring is in the air despite the cold rain. As I trotted up the street I envisioned my big breakfast, my warm house, my sleepy cat, my sweet guy. I decided to stop dreaming of death and to forego wringing my hands over global crises. Instead, I'm choosing to recognize the lovely and to fortify myself with it as I face this day. Hey, wish me luck, as I wish it for you.
This all does relate to my running life, really.
No one here but me and the seagulls.
Having been sure to take a couple of Tylenol at about 2:00 a.m. to reduce any residual rib pain that might slow me down (see my post of Feb. 6), I headed out the door this morning around 6:00 for a brain-cleansing run down to the marina. Unfortunately, it became quickly apparent that the Tylenol wasn't doing its job. The result was the most painful run I've had since last week when I got up close and personal with a metal railing.
Did I turn around and come home? A reasonable question. The answer, actually, is an unreasonable "no." I weighed the drawbacks of giving up my run against the benefits of performing it, and the benefits won. I took it slowly so as not to jar my bones too much, and I was turning around at the end of the pier by the time the sun came up.
Did I turn around and come home? A reasonable question. The answer, actually, is an unreasonable "no." I weighed the drawbacks of giving up my run against the benefits of performing it, and the benefits won. I took it slowly so as not to jar my bones too much, and I was turning around at the end of the pier by the time the sun came up.
No one here but me and the seagulls.I made a stop by the Joseph Slusky Calliope sculpture, where I did a few feeble bicycle-kick exercises (can't do any crunches right now--not a one) before heading home.
On a gray morning, a riot of color.
On a gray morning, a riot of color.On my way back I saw (and heard) a fat robin. Spring is in the air despite the cold rain. As I trotted up the street I envisioned my big breakfast, my warm house, my sleepy cat, my sweet guy. I decided to stop dreaming of death and to forego wringing my hands over global crises. Instead, I'm choosing to recognize the lovely and to fortify myself with it as I face this day. Hey, wish me luck, as I wish it for you.
Comments
Boy, you're a trooper for getting up even with your injured ribs. I have a hard time getting motivated for anything on my best days. I hope it heals soon.
(Also, thanks for the blog comment.)