I didn't get very far. I ran about a mile and a half at my usual pace, maybe a little better than my usual pace. I stopped the second I felt tired and walked the rest of the way home.
I'm home now and I feel great. I'm still congested (thank God for Ricola and Dayquil and thank my husband for leaving them out for me this morning!) but at least I'm happy. I'm happy and sick, does that even make sense?
I realized today I'm a runner. Remember that movie with Whoopie Goldberg - Sister Act II? I just remembered something she told Lauryn Hill (I'll leave my opinion about her for another post). Let me google it. Here it is -
Whoopi: I know you want to sing. See, I love to sing. Nothing makes me happier. I either wanted to be a singer or the head of the Ice Capades. Hey. Do you know who the Ice Capades are? Don't roll your eyes. They were very cool. I went to my mother who gave me this book, called Letters to a Young Poet, Rainer Maria Rilke. He's a fabulous writer. A fellow used to write to him and say, "I want to be a writer. Please read my stuff." And Rilke says to this guy, "don't ask me about being a writer. If when you wake up in the morning, you can think of nothing but writing, then you're a writer." I'm gonna say the same thing to you. If you wake up in the morning and you can't think of anything but singing first, then you're supposed to be a singer.
As you can tell I am very philosophical. So much so that I quote from movies! Point being, I woke up this morning thinking about running. I think about running a lot. I am a runner.
Still sick but happy,