I went to bed Sunday night with visions of a great week of running and getting to the gym in my head. This would be the week I transitioned to taking Monday as a rest day and slipping a short run in Sunday after church instead of my traditional nap.
But Monday night this happened:
And because I can’t just carve a plain ol’ jackolantern, I was up till 11:00 pm meticulously carving the first line of Bach’s Tocatta and Fugue in D minor into my pumpkin. Tuesday morning, I just couldn’t. Blame it on the pumpkin, or the wine, or the late night. What was I thinking?
Tuesday this happened:
When my alarm went off Wednesday morning, I seriously contemplated running after choir practice. I certainly didn’t want to get out of bed. Why am I so tired?
When BF came by with his boys and asked how my morning went, I told him “meh” and that no matter what, I had to run after choir or I wouldn’t be getting the runs (and mileage) in that I planned for the week.
On the way home after choir last night I spotted this:
This house was once the Presbyterian parsonage. More recently owned by the wife of the man who’s retirement made it possible for me to have my current job. I texted him a picture of the house and told him it missed them so much it decided to up and leave.
Someone has purchased the house and a plot of land to move it to in Coupeville. Last night, after weeks of prep work, the big move happened. The guys told me it would begin its journey down to the water at 10:00pm. (why go through such an expense is beyond me, but it is a very cool house.)
Snapped some pictures and continued my run. Must have left my Garmin on after my last run because it was dead before I even left the house. Mileage? I’ll check later. I am reluctant to bring Beau for runs because with his less than stellar leash manners I’m sure will spell injury over time, (I know. I’m not the greatest dog owner) I brought him last night because night runs give me more hebejeebies than morning runs and I figured I’ve been at this for a few months and am probably strong enough to keep good form. Glad I brought him ‘cause he did great. Maybe I’m able to run just fast enough that he doesn’t feel I’m slowing him down any more.
Instead of heading straight home after seeing the house all ready to go, I jagged across Midway and ran down to Ely. Tell me loop, how does one pronounce Ely? The locals have an unexpected pronunciation which makes me feel a little nutty because I AM a local but apparently don’t say it right.
Decided to run up hwy 20 till it meets Midway again. Then a disturbing feeling told me that….
Who thought zippers on sports bras were a good idea? I desperately need some new gear. My initial attempt to rescue the southbound zipper was too late. It continued down as I stopped running… and a feeling of sudden freedom told me it had come entirely undone. Ack! Night time but sporadic traffic on a well lit road. I told Beau it looked like we were walking from there. Bummer ‘cause I knew I was about a mile from home and really didn’t intend to be out longer than 40 minutes. I started to cut through the dark patch of trees where the farmers market is held every summer and decided I had enough “privacy” to fix my wardrobe malfunction. Why do I even have this stupid bra? Oh, right. Because without leaving the island the options at Big5 are:
A: no fasteners at all, so you have to wrestle yourself in and out of the darn thing and nearly dislocate a shoulder post workout not to mention the time I nearly had to call for help from the fitting room because I thought I was stuck.
B: Zipper fronted idiocity.
Maybe I should just go on Amazon or visit the Enell website and order something better ‘cause having to stop mid-run to re-secure the girls is beyond ridiculous.
Wardrobe *ahem* fixed, I picked up the pace again and ran the rest of the way including ALL THE WAY UP THE HILL FROM MIDWAY TO O’LEARY LIKE IT WAS ALMOST NOTHING!
The night run was actually pretty nice. Beau appreciated the outing. I hope to wake up and run Friday, but maybe my body has decided it just doesn’t want to get up in the morning. I’m turning into a night owl? Who knows. As I drank my water and video-chatted with BF, I told him about the house moving at 10:00. Looked at the time 9:50. Heard the kids still awake because they didn’t have to get up in the morning for parent teacher conferences. Told them to load up in the car. I wouldn’t tell them what we were doing. They wanted a hint. “How did my favorite house get here?”
“It came on a boat” Mookie replied.
This house was moved here from Seattle by Mr. Patton when they were putting in I-5. Slotted for demolition, he bought it and a few others super cheap and had them shipped to Whidbey on barges. If I won the lottery, this would be my forever after home.
They were all confused. Why was my house being moved again?
We arrived at the playhouse parking lot just in time to catch this:
Mookie said it was just like the movie "UP" minus the balloons.
Night runs aren’t so bad.