Bathing in Lazy

 

I don't relax well.  Sure I have moments where everything goes to jello but they're fleeting and few.  It's not that I don't need to relax, I do, but the pull of all there is 'to do' is much greater than the voice telling me to sit down.  This body is usually on the move.

 

One good by-product of running longer distances is fatigue.  I ran on Saturday with a new crew of old friends, Clair (whom you may know), her husband, Mike and our buddy, Larry, pack leader.  It was perfection.  We were four forty-something's churning out the miles on a crisp winter day running the picturesque back country roads.  We chatted it up and I giggled every time Larry signaled us about oncoming cars like a mother hen because he really is that nice.  Father protector.

 

By Sunday my body was tired.  My mind was tired from loose thoughts needing rounded up, so I made rest my goal.  After my usual coffee and meditation time I began Sunday morning in front of the woodstove and didn't move for four hours.  I sprawled on the floor and got lost in cooking shows, let my daughters play with my hair and watched them make a huge mess in my yarn and beads. My son disappeared into the world of Minecraft.  I submerged myself in a big ol' bath of lazy and dragged myself to shower around lunchtime.  One long, slow, do-nothing, sloth-like morning is about all I can muster but it is enough to reset what needs resetting.

I'm eyeing a new (small) race, the trail could make things interesting and provide a memorable baptism into the world of racing.  Four hours is a long time to ponder such important things.