Los Angeles is baking in heat today and my swollen runner’s feet look like I’m seriously prego.
“Like fat little baby feet,” my husband noted semi-affectionately.
It all started when ...
A choir of predawn, chirping birds woke me up early this morning.
I loved it. I made coffee, read a little scripture, got ready to run and then happened to walk back through the bedroom. Kip was still passed out in bed. He looked so peaceful sleeping, like the last bit of weekend lingering, that I thought I’d try a little horizontal pre-run stretching. Of course, I fell asleep.
By the time our 6-year-old son woke us with his wiggle-worm-in-bed routine the sun was up and it was already hot!
Having missed our Monday morning jump on the day, it took a full half an hour for us to talk each other into running. I taped up my ugly red blister and squeezed my feet back into their running shoes. We made it about five miles, around the park and down the hill and back.
I was glad we had run. It felt good to run again since I had taken the day off yesterday. But I really, really hope marathon day isn’t this hot!