I endeavor to better myself most days, well, lots of days…ok, ON OCCASION. I’ve allowed myself to slip into books this summer, and went easy on the runs as a reward for, well, for being me. It isn’t easy being me, and I have a boat load of help just TRYING to be me. So, I rewarded myself with mental stimulation and physical sloth. It’s balance I’m seeking most, after all. Today I lounged around lazily in air conditioned splendor until a little voice inside said “when you get to the point that the thought of getting OUT of bed tired you, it’s time to get out of bed and MOVE that Lebanese ass.” And so I did. With great enthusiasm and the memory of a lovely 5 mile run the morning before, I laced up my day-glow sneakers, slathered myself in SPF 50, sucked down 20 ounces of iced coffee and headed out, completely disregarding the time of day: high noon…and the temperature: high horrible.
By the time I was two miles in and rounding the lake, I was a cranky, sweaty, desperate woman. It took every ounce of self control not to race down the pier and knock the fisherman out of my way in an attempt to throw myself into the water. I resisted, fantasizing about strangers sprinklers and looping through them to get me through the last two miles. I survived, staggering up my driveway, tearing off my sneakers and plunking myself right down in the kiddie pool alongside the ducks who regarded me with extreme disdain before exiting the pool for the more distinguished company of the goats.