I’ve started running again. I haven’t ran since November. I don’t like running in the cold and I can’t afford a gym membership. I’ve been out twice and both times my legs have given me hell. They’ve been acting up lately. Restless at night and I’ve barely been able to get through my usual 2.5 miles without my legs saying, “Oh, hell no”.
I love to run though. Sure, while I’m running I’m a mess. My nose runs, I’m sweaty, I can’t breathe (still can’t kick the cigarettes), and there’s an an muscle on the right side that always starts hurting a little while in, but when I’m finished I feel so great. I’m clear and happy. The after run shower is awesome. Runner’s high is real y’all. A lot of people say they run for health or so they can eat that extra piece of cake. I want that extra piece of cake but I also want this. This happy feeling. This natural antidepressant. I understand how people get hooked on exercising.
8 is acting more like she’s 13. She was so moody this morning. Whining and flinging herself around. I tried to fix her hair because it’s naturally wavy/curly but she cried the whole time. Actual tears. Crying because I was fixing her hair and she wanted to watch tv. My actual 13 year old isn’t as moody as she is.
I’ve got cleaning to do but it seems pointless because no matter how much you clean this apartment it still looks terrible. It’s too small for us, we have too much stuff, the carpet is falling apart and they won’t replace it, everything is old, and even when you clean things they look dirty. It’s fighting a losing battle.
I guess I need to do it anyway though. 😕