Some Saturdays are different. Today is one of those. It’s the second Christmas Eve I’m “celebrating” without what used to be my family. I’ve deliberately chosen not to take up an invitation to my best friend’s family party. I just felt like spending the day on my own, enjoying some me-time. As if it was just another Saturday. No different from any other Saturday.
I slept in and indulged in my day-off morning routine: juicing and journaling, and later coffee and breakfast in bed, and some blog reading. This is how, through the twists and turns of the world wide web, I came across this post by KatieComeBack. About running. On a Thursday. Not any Thursday. But Thanksgiving.
I thought nothing of it when I started reading it. Then the slow running commentary sucked me into the story. Somehow I knew before I knew that there was something in there that I had already connected with. Maybe it was the soft sentimentality hidden behind the resolve in running like it was any other Thursday. The repeated “Today is Thursday, and on Thursdays, I run”. The repeated “Today is Thursday, but today is different.”
When I reached the end of the post I just got up. Out of bed and put my running shoes on. I hadn’t run in over three months. I suddenly felt the urge to do so. I stepped on my treadmill (yep, I’m a wussy, I don’t run outside when it’s cold and wet), and started jogging, very slowly, so as to not overexert myself after my long break, while watching my favorite virtual running track.
After forty minutes or so I stepped off the belt, stretched my muscles, had a nice hot shower, and returned to my laptop. Feeling a little better. When I’m done writing this post I’m planning to fix myself a delicious dinner. And enjoy the rest of my me-time evening.
It’s just another Saturday. No different from any other. Isn’t it?