I’ve taken to running in the mornings before work lately. And by that I mean in the last two weeks I’ve done this 3 times. I don’t really know what’s gotten into me, except to say that my hips seem to be taking on a life of their own and I’d like to at least attempt to make them stop.
It’s actually not so bad, running in the morning. I’m usually still so sleepy that the first half of the run is completed in a somewhat delirious state. And it’s kind of nice to wake up with the neighborhood. It’s quiet as the sun stretches its rays out over the trees, and the air has that pleasant dewy-fresh smell. I was surprised to find that there are quite a few people up and at it at the same time, wandering about their property or walking the dog. We smile politely, sometimes wave or head nod as we pass each other. And part of me thinks, “What the shit are you people doing up at this hour? Go back to bed.”
And then my body’s all, “Hey, McCrazy, why don’t you practice what you preach?”
And I’m all, “Hey, Asshead McHippy, I would if you’d stop trying to make yourselves the size of Delaware.”
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