I didn’t want to post until I got 20 miles done on the treadmill.  And now it’s almost midnight and I’m so sweaty that my arm keeps slipping off the table as I type.  It is HOT in that garage.  Once it gets dark I’m too nervous to keep the garage door open while I’m treading, so it’s like running in — well, like running in Texas — but at midday in July.  I should have weighed myself beforehand to see what kind of water weight I was losing.  I’d used up all my procrastination cards by the time that idea occurred to me though, and if I’d undressed to weigh myself, I would have just put on my pajamas and gone to bed.

I’ve got to do the same run again tomorrow night, but I will avoid thinking about that again for at least eight hours.  It’s Mother’s Day, after all.  I’m not sure what Asa and I are going to do to celebrate.  I feel like I need to start some good tradition for him, but nothing comes to mind — as I sit here dripping sweat on the dining room floor.  We could go out for doughnuts at a doughnut shop?  We always took my mom out to Sunday brunch.  I have fond memories of orange juice fountains and dessert tables.  I’m not sure I’m quite motivated enough to track down an orange juice fountain on my own.  We’ll see.  I have failed to find good Mother’s Day presents this year for the various moms in my life.  (Hi Mom!)  So a good part of tomorrow might be taken up with putting Asa to work sweatshop style on some heartfelt crafts.  He’s too cute to disown still.  Me on the other hand…

The interpretive run at Government Canyon was great fun.  Niki pinned a lot of bright orange signs to the plants and trees — and rocks — to help us with identification.  And I can now use “karst” properly in a sentence.  For my part, I think I made running 100 mile races sound attractive.  Nice, eh?

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One Response to Treadmilling

  1. Jane Marcello says:

    If your memories of your childhood are happy ones, then I will always have a happy Mother’s Day! I love you.

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