It's probably doesn't need to be said that running is a lot more of a challenge these days. This week already there have been a couple of down days, days where I just had to keep bumping my run down the to-do list until oops, it was too late...
Take yesterday, when getting out to the street required a force of mysterious strength and origin. Thea, with four more teeth coming in, is in complete revolt from meaningful sleep... tired, pained, sweaty, willful... prodding her up and down the stairs, changing clothes tying shoes with one hand, the other retrieving her from the precipice of the stairwell.
Stuffing her into a sweater, jacket, two pairs of socks, boots, gloves and packing her tight into the stroller with a warm fluffy blanket over howling protestation. The draping of the stroller rain-bonnet brought on physical arched-body bucking...
This is absurd, this is totally absurd
...wrestling the stroller out the door, scraping past the awful, resistant glass screendoor into heavy, twilit downpouring rain and screaming outrage. See? There are a plenitude of reasons to say FUCKTHISFOREVER... but I know that we, she even more than me, need a change of scenery and some fresh gotdamned air.
There is nobody out here now, in this downpour, on this deeply puddled path. I only see one other person running and his clothes are plastered by rain to his body. It is almost full dark when I slow running to a walk, back where we started. I'll get home just before the wolves and the gusts I bring with me mean the inside won't be so stale anymore.
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