The sky is overcast. That seems to be the afternoon norm these days. Big Girl and Baby Girl are fighting over a blow up bat decorated in superheroes. Or with the bat. I can’t be sure. Probably both.
Yesterday, I happened to notice that the bottom corner of our shower curtain is covered in mold. Perhaps I would’ve noticed it sooner if I ever showered. I should probably wash it. Which reminds me. I’m down to my last pair of clean underwear.
My husband just informed me that Baby Girl threw up. Wonderful. And shocking because robots don’t throw up. That would actually make sense if you had heard her chanting, “I am a robot,” all weekend ad nauseam.
I feel a little sick to my stomach too. Not because I’m sick. I hope. But because I ate a little too much pizza and ice cream this afternoon. All I really want to do right now is take a nap and divert all my energy to my digestive tract.
But I need to go for a run.
This is where progress is made. This is the meaning of training. Runners don’t become runners by accident. We don’t just happen to get faster or run farther. We get there through one seemingly small decision after another. Not to take a nap. Not to do the laundry. Today we run.