Last night I got home and threw on my workout gear, ready to face the neighborhood.
I was a little apprehensive, like I always am when I haven’t hit the pavement in awhile.
It’s a different beast than the treadmill, chickpeas.
And previous to last year, I actually preferred the tread because I had more control.
But it’s a new era.
As mentioned in previous weeks, I’m using Lent as a way to de-stress, re-center, and relax.
For instance, I’ve ditched my work e-mail on my bberry, with excellent effects.
It’s made me feel less like work is my life, and more like, well…
More like my life is my life.
Consider me a convert.
Anyway, it seems as though my approach to outside running has also changed.
As in, I was loving every minute of crocuses pushing up and babies kicking soccer balls and dogs stretching their legs.
I was also loving the smell of every grill in the neighborhood.
And although I had strapped on my watch, I didn’t check out how I was doing pace wise for almost twenty minutes.
I’m making strides, my friends.
In any case, it was a lovely, lovely start to my running season out of doors, and when I headed home, JW and I fired up our own grill and enjoyed both brats and tater tots.
A pretty good spring night, all things considered.
Tonight, unfortunately, I won’t be making a repeat performance because fortunately, it’s St. Patrick’s Day, so I’ll be boiling up a corned beef.
Last year, I boiled everything.
This year, I’m branching out. I’m making mashed potatoes.
I know they’re not traditional with my boiled meal, but no one can stop me.
I’m such an Irish fare rebel.
In any case, chickadees, I’m ready for an evening of soda bread and beef.
Happy St. Patrick’s Day, chickens!