I must be serious about running. I’ve been to four brick-and-mortar stores looking for a sports bra that fits me (I’m a little more blessed than the average runner) and had no luck, so at the risk of being spammed to death, I looked online and found a store that sells sports bras for plus-sized women. It’s going to cost me more than two regular bras would, but if it works, it’ll be worth it. I’ve discovered the hard way that nipple chafing isn’t a myth. As my long-standing joke goes, a chest cold for me could be fatal. Hey, it is what it is, or in my case, they are what they are.
I take Mondays off from the gym because I have so much other stuff going on, but I’m starting to suspect that my not exercising on Mondays makes my Tuesdays that much worse. I was a bear on Tuesday, and not just because the furnace went dead the Thursday before. My mood didn’t improve until I got in a 2-mile run.
I used to think that running was my way of stepping out of my comfort zone, but now it IS my comfort zone. It’s something I do entirely for me, because I enjoy it and because I want to do it. it doesn’t hurt that there are some other nice-looking runners at my gym and I wouldn’t mind impressing them, but when it gets down to it, I do it for me. I feel good after a run, and I look forward to going to run. Hell, there are some times that knowing I’m going to go for a run is the only thing that pulls me through the day.
But it’s time to get out of the comfort zone again. I haven’t been writing fiction lately because I just can’t get my head back there. I’m pushing myself like I used to jump-start my old ’72 VW Bug. It was stick shift so if I let it roll down the hill and popped the clutch, the engine would jump-start itself. I had hoped writing would be the same, but so far…? But I need to put the negative thoughts aside and JUST DO IT. J Yeah, where have you heard that before?
I need to get back to telling a story. That’s what I’m really here to do.