I had every intention of running last night. Thought about it all the way home after work. Practically had it all planned out by the time I pulled into the driveway. Run to Ruby. A little over a mile, all uphill. Well, it is until you get to the crazy intersection where you have to stop anyway. Run to Ruby street. Sounded simple enough. Then run home. No biggie.
Was it the heavy woman standing in the middle of the street watching a man mow a lawn? I hated the way she watched me walk down the drive to get the mail. Yes, I was barefoot and looking fancyfancy. I just got home from work. She was in a tight tank top, tummy rolling over the short shorts. Fat feet in flip flops. I had hooked my shoes in two fingers and carried them casually, dropping one as I pulled open the mailbox. I could feel her eyes on me and hear her screaming at the man on the mower.
Was it the cat who snaked around my ankles, bumping my shins and purring like a freight train? Yes, yes, I’ll feed you. Just let me turn off the alarm, put down my bag and dump my shoes. Her pouch swung side to side as she ran eagerly to her dish. Her purrs turned into plaintive cries when I didn’t follow quickly enough. Dumping crunchies into her dish I suddenly realized I had done the exact same thing the day before. And the day before that. And the day before that. I thought of the repetition exhausted me. Slowed me.
Soon I found myself stretched out on the couch with a book. Was it happening again? Was the depression sneaking back into my life? Was I starting to avoid living again? No. I could still hear the big woman screaming at the man on the mower. There was no way I was going to run by them. Not unless I was wearing pants and a turtleneck. Then the cat jumped up beside me and snuggled against my thigh. Her purrs returned and she nudged my knee looking for attention. Usually by this time she is crying for Kisa. Normally there is no love for me. This was new and there was no way I was going to neglect it. No running for me.
Tomorrow I will run to Ruby.