I realized quickly that no it wasn't Erin because Erin would have laughed. This woman? Well, you should have seen the look on her face. (Yes, we made eye contact.) Her look was not one of happiness. No, I think it was one of fear. Fear of a sweaty, psychotic middle-aged woman.
Yesterday morning, I ran 2.5 miles. Then, in the afternoon, I went to Pilates. This morning, I woke up and went to a kick-ass spin class.
After class, as I was getting in the shower, I couldn’t help but think, “Who the f@$k am I?”
I’ve had that thought a lot in the last couple of weeks.
So I ran that race this morning.
That 5K I’ve been yapping about for the last couple of weeks. My first one ever.
And even though I didn’t meet my goal of a sub 10 minute mile, it turned out better than I had hoped for.
Martha was killed almost a year ago. Struck by a car as she was leaving a shop in her Brooklyn Heights neighborhood. And her death still doesn’t make any sense to me. I don’t think it ever will.
I am not one to use affirmations. In times of sadness or confusion, I have not been helped by “Tomorrow is another day.” No “Let go, let God.” Or “I am worthy of love.” The only phrase that ever comes in to my head when I am upset about something is “This too shall pass”...
This summer, I got really used to sleeping in. I don’t mean college-years sleeping in until 11:00 or 12:00. I mean the adult version, getting up around 7:30 or 8:00. Which felt like sleeping in to me because for the nine months prior to summer, I had been getting up at 5:30 with my high...