I don't have the words to express how much I did not want to run today. I sought excuses (I need to go to the grocery store and clean the house as we are having company tomorrow), but the universe thwarted me and I found myself with the perfect running time. I have a terrible pain in my left thigh. I don't know if I pulled a muscle or hit it on something or what. It woke me up last night. I worried with it all day and finally gave in; perhaps the run would help work out the kink. That remains to be seen. I pulled on my running clothes, inserted those stupid ear buds in my ears (I loathe them and covet those big old-school padded headphones), and opened the front door. Sitting on my porch was a box from Anthropologie, a dress I ordered Tuesday. Yes, I know, that was fast, and yes, I chose regular shipping. I tossed the box in the house and hauled my fat butt down the street.
The scale was not kind to me this morning. While Gary kindly suggested it was due to muscle, I know that's a lie. I am a bit worried that I won't fit in to the dress.
While the weather has warmed up (mid-50s), the sun lost its way behind bruise-colored clouds. The air smelled like smoke. At first I thought one of my neighbors had the fireplace going but the woodsy odor followed me on the entire route, which makes me think one of the neighboring pastures was on fire. I couldn't see a plume.
I am still in need of a good playlist. Today I ran to The Finches, Kimya Dawson, Sunscreem, and (I'm a little embarrassed to admit this is on my ipod), Eminem.
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