I feel like I’ve turned my back on a lover. I feel guilt. I feel… like I wish the rest of the world would go away so that I could get back to running. I shouldn’t whine so much and should spend my efforts making the time to go run. But, really, with heat index of 112, it’s not going to happen this week.
So, I’ll look back fondly on my one run in the past week and a half. I’ll think about the tingling of the asphalt. I’ll remember the expansion of my lungs. I’ll follow the path of the sweat beads. I’ll picture all the churches in town. I’ll make sincere promises to Run, my lover, that I’ll sneak away from the life I’m married to just as soon as the opportunity presents itself.