Baby, I Was Born to Run

I've been running. Going for long runs in the cold of the early morning. Running to the gym. Running to the grocery store. And running at work, when I literally don't have 30 seconds to waste. Because time is so precious and there is just so little of it, because I have two legs, because walking seems like a cop-out. So I run.

Mentally, I'm running. I'm running from one thing to the next. One person, place, event, and idea to the next.

It's not a marathon. It's not a sprint. It's a marathon at a sprint pace. Every day.

So what happens when I stop?

I make tea. I read. I watch silly things like The Mindy Project and I make silly things like an ugly Christmas sweater.

I fall asleep. I sit down on my couch at the end of the day and, regardless of what time it is and whether I'm still fully dressed, I fall asleep. I also fall asleep on my friends' couches. I hope it's endearing because it happens often.

I get really fussy about the fact that there's no food in the fridge. I go buy so many groceries that my neighbor looks at my loot and says, "Two Whole Foods bags! You must have taken out a mortgage!" And then I make a spicy Thai green curry.

I think about January. And 2013. About the exceptional promise of a new year. And all that we can do to make January an exceptional beginning.

And, of course, I go out for long runs in the cold of the early morning.