When We are Happy

There is a line from a Barenaked Ladies song, “when we are happy we both get fat…”

First off, what do you think of me for mentioning BNL? Is my age showing like the crooked hem of a slip? Am I outdating myself because I still love Gordon? Ah well. Suffice it to say some things Billy survive. BNL is one such thing.
I have been happy but I haven’t gotten fat. One thing I have been is away.

They say good music comes from the stuff of heartache (just ask Adele). The same could be said for my blogs. It seems I only write on this side when I have some b!tching or crying to do. Through tears and tirades this is where I come to lay it all down. I’ve always said writing is the best place to work out the demons. I slay them with words and when I’ve exhausted every evil rant I calmly step over the carcasses and move on. When I don’t have anything to rave about, well, there are no demons to slay. No words to wield. The arena is dark and I fall silent.

Here’s my life in a nutshell: I have healed from the groin/quad injury enough that running is back in my life. I’m not running four times a week; sometimes it’s only two, but I’m back and. And! And, (this is important) I haven’t completely lost the mojo. Two weekends ago the Kisa and I took advantage of the gorgeous weather and went to see Ashley. I was able to put in 7.5 miles at a sub ten minute pace. If you know anything about the way I run you’ll get it. You know I’ve always been happy with a steady 10:26.
I’ve also been visiting the yoga studio a lot. Christene, Rebecca & Matt have become my go-to gurus for working out the hips, quads, calves and lower back. I’d like to say my practice is daily but some days are better than others. Five times a week would be less of a lie.
Lastly, I’ve been meeting up with Nicky and Jordan for strength training. I hobble after sessions with them, but it’s been worth it.

What else to tell you? The drinker has stopped his 3am tirades. The reader is gone, baby, gone. Mountain man had a heart attack from which he should recover. I had a dream about hugging an old friend goodbye and woke to realize she was never a friend in the first place. Is it wrong to care more in dreams than waking life? My mother refuses her stent. My sister refuses it all. So strange. It’s never enough.

Categories: Confessional, life, running | Tags: , , , , , | Leave a comment

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