Mamma Mia

I usually don't run with headphones on.  Being an urban runner means I'm on the lookout for cars, bikes, scooters, trucks, and the other pedestrians with their headphones on who don't notice me, trotting down the pavement (in an electric blue running top, but nevermind that) toward them at what might be called a respectable clip.  But the park across the street gives me a rare opportunity, so I decided to try out the iPod shuffle that was gifted to me just before I left Boston.  And what was there to greet me as soon as I set foot out of the door into the glorious and extremely rare English sunshine?  Dancing Queen.  I didn't realize until the song was over but it made those first very painful minutes of my run somehow more passable.  I was smiling, enjoying the weather, looking out at the people with their dogs, and thinking about how lucky I am to have this time, to make this time for my own health (and mental health).  One of the things my mom complains about with her reentry into the work force is the lack of time for her to go to the gym.  My mom was one of those nutty 80s step aerobics whackos who went on to become a 90s aerobic body sculpting whackos and has now entered the phase of the 21st century spinning cult.  You know, where you sit on the bike and lift weights at the same time to high volume techno music?  That's my mom.  But she says it takes a real toll on her mental well-being when she can't get to the gym as much as she'd like.  And if Miss Jean isn't happy, ain't nobody happy, so I encourage her to keep getting up at the crack of dawn if that's what is required of her to get to the gym before work.  

So anyway, back to my English pastoral tangent.  I'm running, bopping along to Abba, and I see two of the most beautiful black labs out on the green.  Gorgeous creatures, romping in the sun and chasing after who knows what, and then this woman passes me on the path with her dog, some kind of long-haired sheperdy/hound mix, dragging a huge stick in his mouth, keen as can be, and then I see them.  The two people on the far side of the track, accompanied by not two, not four, not even six dogs.  TEN of them, all different sizes, big ones, little ones, hounds and labs and terriers, sniffing and romping and looking as if this is the best day in the western hemisphere for them.  And it just makes my day.  It seems such a small thing, but if I can improve my mood dramatically simply by putting on silly clothes and running through a public park so I can burn some calories and see some dogs, shouldn't I be doing this every day?  Shouldn't I have done this every day of my DMA???

I'm going to eat a little snack and have a shower because I'm meeting my old friend Ayla for lunch.  Ayla knew me when the suffix -teen was still attached to my age, so that gives you some time perspective.  And we're going to have a marvelous time, a late lunch and a walk by the Southwark Cathedral, and maybe I'll treat myself to a haircut.  I've been itching to lop off a few inches - part of the new year's resolution to reclaim my natural hair color means chopping off the colored part bit by bit and resisting the urge to go into the salon and say, "just put highlights on it to make it look like one color, okay??"  

Husby says I talk really fast when I'm home after my walk.  Does that apply to typing too?  Or have I just developed some form of runners' ADD?

Gratitude:

1.  Abba

2.  dogs of all shapes and sizes

3.  my friends Meghan & Margaret, who gifted me my iPod shuffle

4.  the sunshine that's still coming through my window - seems impossible

5.  Costa coffee