Night workouts of any kind are not my favorite. I don’t know if it’s end-of-day fatigue or just too close to dinner, but I always feel like I’m made of lead. As I headed out for my run tonight, I did the only sensible thing: I took the straightest route as far from home as possible. The local, meandering routes would have given me an excuse to turn around and go home. Much to my surprise, my final time wasn’t any slower than usual. I don’t understand how it’s possible.
In other news, I went to the big REI sale today in the hopes of getting some new running gear. Nothing fit. Nothing. I finally gave up and left with nothing more than a jacket and a pair of wear-everywhere summer sandals after abandoning hope of good running tights and lightweight pullovers.
Strangely, it wasn’t until I was pulling into the parking lot that I realized that it was six years to the day since the last time I spoke to my mother. I was driving to this very REI sale, talking to her on the phone. I was mocking the fact that I was even bothering to look for more workout clothes. She was insistent that a sale was a sale, and it was my job to take advantage of it. “Get what you want, I’ll send you a check,” she said. It seems somehow fitting that our final chat featured a discussion of sale shopping. Tomorrow is the anniversary if her death; even after all these years, I’m still startled by her absence.