With all this life and death happening around me and the fact that Miss Snootie from the marie drove past me last night in a cabriolet just like Hubster used to have (with the top down I might add,) I decided it was time to get back on the wagon and get some of this stress and worry out of my system. The wagon in this case being my treadmill.
I think the last time I ran on it was when I was about 17 weeks pregnant with Whoops. I shoved my pregnant body into my running clothes and attempted to do an easy jog. It sucked.
Fast forward several months to today when I shoved my now post-partum body into my running clothes and attempted to do an easy jog. Except for feeling like a bouncing sausage, it didn't suck. And honestly, I feel much better about things.
The only draw back is that my treadmill has suffered a sort of "demotion" while I wasn't running on it. Before, I got to run while staring into the dining room wall, the treadmill well hidden behind the door. Now, the machine has found a new home in the cave.
Lucky girl I am, I get time to stare at a nice picture of a boat entering New York Harbour while pondering the need to dust off the jars of jam stocked in there. While plodding along today, I also found where I had stored my onions and potatoes from the garden last year. Yikes.
Even though it's a wee bit somber down there, running near the wine is nice and the noise from the washing machine really does set a good pace. Heck, beggars can't be choosers and I should just be happy that I get reception on the baby monitor.