Delighted to announce that my Sunday morning runs with my husband are back.
When I say run, I mean run-walk. And when I say back, I mean that we’ve done them about a dozen times in our lifetime. We always say, “Yeah, man. That was fabulous. We should do it again next Sunday.”
Our track record isn’t great.
But coming off a stressful week, it was nice to get outside and shuffle along the trail in a local park. The weather was unquestionably gorgeous on Sunday, and we could use the exercise. We came home from our run and did about five hours worth of yard work.
I am sore. I am tired. But I feel like my Sundays always set the tone for the week. A good Sunday means that I roll into the week with composure and confidence. A bad Sunday means that I’m disorganized, frenzied and recovering for the next six days.
The only routine I have in my life is margaritas on Friday with Ken, and even that routine falls by the wayside when I control myself during marathon season. It’s nice to think that maybe, just maybe, we could do Sunday morning runs like Frank and Claire Underwood on House of Cards.
Maybe.
Sometimes I like to sleep in!