I weirdly had neither a rehearsal nor a performance tonight, and as I walked to my car after work wondering what the hell it is you people with free time DO with your free time, I noticed that it was perfect running weather outside.
Mistake 1. So I texted Scott and Rob to test the waters and see if they might be up for an impromptu evening run.
Mistake 2. Rob, to his eternal credit, already had a theater commitment LIKE A NORMAL PERSON. But not only was Scott free, his response to my query was “what time?” And I texted back to tell him when I’d be home.
Mistake 3.
Fast-forward a bunch more mistakes. We’re standing in my driveway, noticing that it’s WAY more humid than I’d thought. But we take off running, with me secure in the knowledge that I’ll have to phone a tailor when we’re done to have all my pants taken in because of all the inches that were destined to melt off of me after surprising my body with an impromptu Monday evening 3-mile run in cleansingly heavy humidity.
Fast forward one mile, when I completely run out of will to live.
Anyway, here’s a photo of Scott looking like a dewy lotus blossom and me looking like a hair clog from the drain of a New Deal-era public pool after trudging back from our not-three-mile run:
In slightly exciting news, it WAS my first serious exertion since my stupid mole removal and I didn’t split open and exsanguinate all over our pretty running trail. SMALL. VICTORIES.
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