I had my cousins wedding on Friday night. It was the first real event I’ve been to since before the pandemic started. Everyone had to show proof of vaccination or a negative test to attend and it felt almost normal.
It was also the first time Erika met my extended family and she seemed to take it in stride. Or at least she hasn’t run away screaming yet. Actually, now that I think about it, it’s a little unsettling how well she seemed to get along with these people…
Saturday I had the worst hangover of my life! Maybe. Possibly. It was bad. I was sick. Erika woke up with a bad cold (not covid) so the two hour drive home was rough and then we spent the rest of the day dying on the couch.
I often complain about missing the old New York but sometimes I remember how it was and I am cured of my pining.
Sunday night I remembered that I used to call myself a runner and I decided to go out for three miles. Just three miles. I could do three miles, right? I mean, it would be slow and I would feel sorry for myself but I would still feel better about going, right?
Oops. Wound up being four of the best miles I’ve run in months. Were they any faster? Nope. Were they any easier? Also nope. But for some reason they just felt damn good and I wanted to keep going.
I think I am almost giddy to run again tonight.
What were you up to?