I wasted the prettiest week of running summertime in D.C. last week. Why?

Well, at first, it was an easy week and I flaked out. But I was committed to my longer run that week! It was going to happen! I swear.

Then I got some really bad personal news and I just lost it for about four days.

I wallowed. I laid in bed extra long. I mainlined The Vampire Diaries (I blame Gretchen; and by blame, I mean THANK YOU, this show is getting crazier all the time and I love it). I didn’t post, I didn’t do anything except go to work and try to live like a responsible, functioning adult. The Man is out of town, and often when that happens I revert to a status that can be best described as ‘feral child.’

Even though I knew it would help me feel better, I stayed in bed instead of running.

So last night I forced myself to get my shit together. I put on my Big Girl Pants.  I did the dishes, I put away laundry, and I went to bed at a reasonable hour.

And today I went for a four mile run. It was hot, nasty, and thoroughly unpleasant. I waited too long. But I feel miles better.

I just have to get up again tomorrow (earlier) and do it again.

And now I’m off to watch more of The Vampire Diaries. Because it is the crackiest cracky show ever.