Sockless

I just went over to the Y, excited to go for a run in our beautifully refreshing 90-degree temps. Changed my clothes. Put all my stuff away. Pulled out my running shoes. And realized I didn't have any freaking socks. This is particularly frustrating because I used to have extra socks in my gym bag but just took them out for some reason I can no long remember. (It's surprising this doesn't happen to me more often, I guess, since I can barely remember my own name lately. You should have seen me trying to recite my phone number at CVS earlier this week!) I considered running sockless but figured getting this three-miler in probably wasn't worth the blisters I'd get. Unfortunately, this screw-up now means that I've got to run 26 miles over the next three days. Wait, that can't be right. Oh, it's not. It's actually only 20 miles. And I have to work tonight, so trying to get it in later is not looking promising.

Also in my gym bag was a bathing cap and goggles but no swimsuit. Splendid! Of course, a swim was probably out of the question anyway since my wrist still hurts from my fall two weeks ago, and I can't even wash my hands (thankfully, I hardly ever do that!) without issue. More troubling is the fact that opening a bottle of wine is nearly impossible. Don't worry, though, I'm nothing if not determined.

I also considered getting some strength training in (an area in which I'm sorely lacking) but figured that probably wasn't going to be great for my wrist either.

So instead, I swore quietly to myself (but probably not quietly enough that the naked elderly woman nearby didn't hear me), stopped for lunch, and came back to work.

In other news, there's a whole lot of other stuff going on too.