Here’s a cliche for you: Where does time go? It seems like just yesterday that I was . . .
Seriously. In the blink of an eye, I now have a daughter who is SIXTEEN. Crazy. I can still remember her sweet pudgy face and the endless talking and questioning that she did from age one (seriously, her first “word” was “What is it?”) through the middle school years.
And, on the where does time go front, can you believe it’s been SEVENTY EIGHT days since I last ran?? So strange because on the one hand it seems like time has just dragged by without me running, but on the other hand life has moved forward at lightening speed and so the not running thing has just become part of life. I was talking with someone – who is newly injured – about the adjustment to not running and the STRESS and FRUSTRATION and ANGER that accompanies an injury. I told him that for me the 50 day mark was magical. At 50 days I seemed to be accepting of my new normal and content with not running and with doing things like walking, water running, biking and drinking red wine instead.
For the most part I’m ok with not running.
But certain things just really really really make me want to run, and make me sad inside that I can’t run: life stress; spending the first day of Fall in Chicago and seeing all the people running along the shore of Lake Michigan; watching all the people training for their Fall Marathons.