Run. Dog. Cat. Cat. Me.

Everything you need to know about running and life and any other random crap I find bouncing through my mind like a ping pong ball. And always be sure your shoes are happy.

I am a realist. A pragmatist.

For me, the glass is half full because someone drank part of it.  And left it on the counter.  Where it will sit until the end of time unless I (which I capitalized to emphasize that it’s ME, but I is always capitalized so the emphasis is not visible.  Just pretend.) throw the rest out and put the dirty cup in the invisible dishwasher.

As a realist I have mediocre expectations that I (this time I is just capitalized for being I, I’m not emphasizing it this time.  Just so you know.  In case you wanted to keep track.) or anyone else including the cup leaver behinder will exhibit drastic changes in their personalities and habits.  As a pramatist I have come to this philosophy by observing in my own life that nothing much changes which I express frequently by saying “Oh, well” and sometimes “Oh, well h*ll”.  Exhibit A:  the cup.

Which is why I am confused this morning.

I awoke with a feeling of ennui.  (I had to look up how to spell ennui which was kinda hard to do because I only knew it started with an ‘e’ and somewhere in it has an ‘i’, which is not capitalized.  Thank God google knows me well and immediately offered helpful suggestions.  It did not, however, put the dirty cup in the invisible dishwasher.  Not that I’m bitter.)

Why, I pondered in bed while curled sadly around Mushy Pillow, do I feel vaguely dissatisfied?  Why this feeling of ennui?

Yesterday I woke:  bright world, sunny day, going for a run!  Seeing the peeps!  Hugging the Brettster!  Happy Happy Joy Joy!

This morning: darkness.  Grey, all encompassing black darkness.

Then I remembered I should  turn on the light since it was 5:30am which is almost midnight so that helped a lot.

Yet it followed me like a little grey puppy, nipping at my heels, yip yip yip dissatisfied yip yip sad yip yip something is missing yip.

Pondering.  Sipping coffee and pondering, glassy-eyed staring out the window.  What am I missing?  What did I forget?  I wandered through the house checking that everything was as it should be.  Dog sleeping on bed, cat locked in bathroom until Petco opens, furniture not stolen in the night which the dog, in his 23 hours a day sleep-induced coma would not have heard, hubs awake at oh my god in the morning and already exercising for 13 hours: all check.  What do I have planned for today?  Did I forget something yesterday?

And then…I remembered.  I remembered the joy, the golden glow of potential, the shimmering possibilities of the New Year.  The promise of new beginnings … RESOLUTIONS

A pragmatic realist should know better than to make resolutions.

And this is what happened that shining, promise-filled first day of 2012:

~ I did not run 87 miles

~ I did not lose 12 pounds

~ I did not eat granola with greek yogurt and fruits and berries high in antioxidants followed by a lunch of dark leafy greens and chopped veggies in a low-fat balsamic vinaigrette reduction and a dinner of 4 ounces of skinless chicken breast and oven roasted eggplant.

~ I did not even open the Drawer of Terror, much less attempt to clean it out.

~ I did not leap tall buildings in a single bound

~ I did not win the lottery

~ I did not sprout wings and run a 6 minute mile.  Or 7.  Or 8…or 9…or…10…

~ And while most of you do not know this, the largest disappointment of all:  I failed to trim the cat’s claws.

All of it:  gone.  Dust.  Disillusionment.  Shattered dreams, lost hope.  Deep hole of darkness.

Oh, well h*ll.  At least I can put the cup in the dishwasher.

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