My running has taken a big dip since the marathon. And though I got out earlier this week for three-miler after returning from Cooperstown, N.Y., I haven't donned the moisture-wicking gear since.
Instead, my time has been eaten up by the anxiety leading up to and then the actual signing of papers to close the transaction on the Enthusiast's and my first house.
Today, we get the keys, but we won't be moving in until after Thanksgiving. Suddenly, our apartment appears entirely too unpacked. Where are all the boxes? What are all these books doing on the shelf? Where did all this stuff come from? We're moving in a month!
All in due time. Until then, I am missing my runs. And I don't just mean "missing" as in "not running" -- I mean emotionally, like one might miss childhood or something.
The temperature is dropping rapidly, and frost has entered the weather forecast. I need to get out there before the colder seasons settle in and scare me off the running paths. Night is falling earlier and earlier, and it's time to don the reflective gear and headlamp to stay safe.
Let's run off the weight of pounds and stresses and prepare to enter this new home with a fit body and healthy mind. But first, let's have a cocktail.
Wherein we explain ourselves to the Beer Police
Jamoosh accuses me of alcohol abuse upon my return: "You 'lost' a bottle of beer? Is this legal?"
Answer: You don't know how distressed the Enthusiast and I were when that bottle of Ommegang Aphrodite freed itself from its bonds and shattered upon the pavement while we unpacked the car. Don't nark on me, dude.
Happy Hour is nearly upon us, teammates! Have a finely brewed weekend. Run well and drink well. Cheers!