And if the sun comes up tomorrow, let her be.
I’m back to living the life of a spinster…kind of. It’s been helpful that my days have been busy, the sunlight comforting. I saw some crocuses in bloom last night while I was running – welcome back, spring. I’m glad you’re here.
My evenings feel incomplete without at least some form of interaction with my dear Benjamin. Last night, I resorted to calling his cell phone just to hear his voice, as preserved by the recording for his voicemail. I realize this is a bit pathetic; trust me, I do. Despite such moments of weakness, I really have been doing well with the transition. I miss him, but that’s a given. I think I’d be a bit concerned if I didn’t miss him.
…it’s been three days since I started this entry. I’ve been in a distracted funk. My mind never seems to turn off. It was my hope that running/training for the half-marathon would be therapeutic, time spent in that “happy” place that exercise seems to bring (thanks, endorphins). It’s been turning out to be the exact opposite. I hardly pay attention to the fantastic playlists I’ve created to help me keep a bounce in my step; instead, my brain is processing at warp speed, ceaselessly. Running has turned into the time of day when I’m alone with my thoughts. I go between being exhausted by the stresses of work to counting down how many miles I have left to go. The training isn’t progressing as quickly as I had hoped (or perhaps foolishly believed) due to my propensity to develop shin splints. I’ve had to take it easy the last couple days…darn my flatter than flat feet.
It’s time for me to get back to doing what spinsters do best. Don’t worry – I haven’t adopted 17 cats yet and I don’t know how to knit (but I wouldn’t mind learning…).