Runner, Interrupted

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I thought my last run as an official resident of Scripps Ranch would have been somehow different, but it really was just like most other runs. I walked out the door, started heading in the same direction as always and then just ran until it was time to go home. Those early mornings were the only calm moments within weeks of anxiety with the move and anger over the job loss. One minute I’d be packing yet another box; the next, I’d be driving downtown to meet with a lawyer.

The relocation itself went about as smoothly as it could. There are always glitches, but we’ve done this every three to five years for decades now, so we’ve got the system down. And the job-loss depression has been dulled by being crazybusy and doing so much manual labor.

Now comes the return of a routine.

I went for my first run in the new neighborhood on Sunday. My heart rate shot up to 178 within minutes of climbing the first hill. I guess that’s what happens when you don’t run for almost a week, subsist for days on Diet Coke and forget to eat dinner the night before. [But for a good reason: to see an advanced screening of Transformers in a packed theater that seats 1500. A former San Diegan who appears in the action picture made a special appearance.] My next step is to reintroduce myself to the gym after a very long hiatus and return to the Tuesday night track workouts. Afterall, I’ve now got some time to kill and a badly neglected body to nurture.

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