Look at these little maniacs waiting for the bus to pick them up and whisk them off to be worn down by young camp counselors who will inherit my gray hairs:
For the next two weeks, I get to do whatever I want for an entire day. Eat a salad. Drink my coffee. Catch up on my reading and writing. Go for a run.
The last time I went for a run was when they were in summer day camp. Last year.
So you can imagine, I was amped up.
The bus snatched the two maniacs a little after seven and I hit the road to the running track by half-past. With my iPhone blaring Audioslave, I was a speed-walking demon. Once I got to the track, which is about a mile and a half away, I let loose and sped past everybody.
By everybody, I mean the group of old Chinese folks who've been walking around the track for hours and the plump couple in their sixties and the wiry man who, judging by his gait, was probably rehabilitating from a stroke.
Yes. They're tough. I know because they're the same regulars from last year.
But so what. It felt great. It was inspiring. This new found invigoration will see me through the rubbery loss of elasticity in my knee and the pinch pain I'm now feeling in my hip and back. Or hopefully, it'll last at least four hours until my next dose of Tylenol.
And a final word to my husband: we have to find a new place to stash the treats.
|No step stool - no evidence|