This week has been all about running, apparently. Thursday I ran away to the beach. Saturday, I ran away with friends to DeLand (but I did come back). Today, well, I just RAN. And it felt good. It felt so good, in fact, that it made me wonder what made me not run for 2+ weeks. I don't really know. Grief hits you in funny ways, I guess. It hit me with about 8 pounds as well and that weird, restless feeling in my arms and legs when I eat crap and don't take care of myself. Jason encouraged me to get back on the trail tonight - he even accompanied me, though those long legs of his meant he didn't exactly run side-by-side with me, of course. I went, thinking I would make it a few blocks and want to go back home. Amazingly, the energy was there. Where it came from, I don't really know. But it was there, and there I went. I'm sure my run was slower than it could have been, and I definitely felt two weeks' worth of inactivity catch up with me as I ran. I'm a little achy and sore as I write this. But I feel alive, and I just can't get that feeling any other way these days. I put in a little over 3 miles, and it felt good.
Each day, one more step.
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