After springing out of bed at the crack of 9:45 and doing some fiddle-fart things around the house, I decided I wanted to go for a run outside. It was 12 noon. I haz teh dumbz. Knowing it would be a craptastic run, I went anyway in true stubborn fashion fueled by the high of signing up for a major race that I'm a little bit skeerd of. I don't know what I pulled outta my butt, but I ran 2 full miles at 12 noon in Texas in almost full sun. Three days ago I felt like I could barely make 2 miles on an indoor dreadmill! The body is a mysterious thing, but I think mine should be named Sybil.
I thought more about why I'm running and have come to this conclusion: I have to find my identity apart from being someone's mom or someone's nurse. My child rearing days are coming to a close and I'm feeling the vacuum start to pull at me. What is my life about now? Working and making money to pad my death bed in old age? Yay. fun. I guess this is why people have mid life crises, although I don't think I've quite hit my midpoint. I'm just getting a head start.