I hit snooze this morning at 7. I was, again, having weird, crazy dreams that danced on the negative side of life. I had to ensure my retreat back under the covers with my eyes close right then and there, to right what had gone so wrong in my head.
40 minutes later I gave up, having lost the road trail to whatever I needed to fix. The first thoughts after I realized it was 7:40, were the words “I WILL GET UP AND RUN THIS MORNING”, echoing and echoing as I repeated them to myself about 50 times as I was falling asleep last night. That, and I woke up in my running shorts and sports bra, looked over to grab my glasses, and realized I’d put my brand new armband ready with Nike + iPod on my nightstand… just that little extra reminder.
It takes me awhile to figure things out when I wake up in the morning. This is why I have to set little reminders for myself. Just another realization I’m getting older. 27. Wow. I’m starting to begin the early stages of Spinsterhood – waking up alone (during the week, at least), pretty dedicated to my job and school, having a good, stiff drink some evenings. Starting to see the little lines by my eyes because lately, I sometimes have a little too much fun at night to apply my night cream.
That, or maybe because I spent a good hour or two (or three) stuck on the “What am I doing with my life, really?!”thought process that began as I sat at the HEB gas station, watching an Eagle Scout Leader hop out of his minivan and excitedly asking his two sons to help pump the gas, them responding with the same enthusiasm a dog gets when you shake keys at it.
I shake awake. Up and atom.
I run around the house looking for water and socks, blowing my nose, figuring out what shirt to wear, where in the hell are my Nike + iPod chip shoes?, and ugh, my thighs are killing me from either Saturday night’s activities or Sunday evening’s “Backyard Exercises” I did, adding jumping jacks, crunches, and mountain climbers (pretty sure that was the cause – and I’ll be doing that 20 minute workout every Sunday now – it seems all the coffee I drank all day during homework decided it was going to hit me around 6:30 p.m. My thighs hurt. But it’s go time. Time to start running again. I do a quick warmup in front of the house, set forces to “stun”, “badass”, “energized”, “motivated” and finally, “go”.
I come home a little over a mile later feeling pretty good. Taking the second run of the year pretty easy. Short distance, not too much pressure for time. Just getting back into that gait and stride again.
9 or 10 hours later, I return home from a metaphorical processor fail of a workday, returning to the drawing board several times. I’m standing there, new yoga pants in hand for tomorrow, and a new workout top for boot camp on Thursday (and maybe a new, totally cute top for a hangout day in Austin this weekend meeting another one of his friends). Week three of Adult Group Fitness offered through the university and my legs are killing me. My thighs are on fire, made worse by sitting in my desk chair all day. I then take my “my body hurts” de-stresser bath. It doesn’t really help. And I’m sad. It helped after my first session of boot camp and I’ve sworn by it ever since.
A handful of my friends and I are all jazzed about the Kiwanis 5K in Lockhart, and the Blue Bell Fun Run in Brenham shortly thereafter. I think I might try to go for the 10k – because – come on – there’s most likely free ice cream afterwards. I think between running, power yoga, and boot camp, I can accomplish it. It’s so weird. I was never this active in college… Maybe because I was always exhausted.
I better pick up some Bengay before work tomorrow. I guess this isn’t going to be as easy as it was when I was 25.
