This morning the cold blue dawn illuminated our bedroom at the 5:30 alarm, and I staggered from the bed. I started the coffee and shaved under the showerhead in the dim bathroom, not yet ready for brighter lights. Eyes still nearly closed, I packed my running clothes for the day, gathered my coffee, and wrote for an hour, haltingly.
By 7:00 I was more nearly coherent and more easily mobile, and moved through the remainder of the morning’s rituals with something approaching consciousness. We gathered our things, and departed. I almost forgot my running bag.
Today at noon, I shut and locked my office door (ah, the glory of having a door!) and prepared to go for a run. I stripped, neatly folded my clothing over my chair back, and opened the bag to change into:
Slate gray tank top
Bandana tied into a sweatband
Bridgette’s sexy tank top made of the same silky stuff my shorts are made of.
I did not run today. And I will start packing my bag the night before.
Crossposted from Epinepherine & Sophistry