Slowin' My Roll

Welcome, new old readers, to the safe little nook of privacy in which I now write. See? I wasn't avoiding you, I was just safeguarding myself against the beady, prying eyes of toothless people from my past.

Anyway.

So I chose my half marathon. It's gonna be in Staten Island (I know) on October 11. The reason I picked Staten Island (here's the part where I justify) is timing. I could have rushed and ran in Queens, but this way I've afforded myself a few more weeks of training. Since this last job worked me until I contracted the flu (they quarantined me to my apartment for three days and I almost lost my mind), I think it's okay to admit that I fell off the wagon for a few weeks there. I got back on tonight with a jaunty 5 miler that took me over hill (Cobble Hill) and dale (I think 4th Avenue qualifies, right?).

But, like I said, I came down with the flu. I showed up to work Tuesday and the President took one look at me, felt my forehead, and put me in a cab. I thought it would only last a day. I thought they were overreacting. I can't afford to not work. So the next day I showed up, did my thing, then all of a sudden at noonish I couldn't remember my name, much less what PO I was working on or where to sell short ends of film stock. I had no choice. I melted into a feverish puddle on the floor and then slithered downstairs and somehow took a subway home. All I really remember is the glorious moment when I fell into bed.

The Pres said go to a doctor. The catch-22 is that I can't really afford a doctor if I'm not working a full week. How many people reminded me this week that I don't have health insurance? How many needed to?

The long and short of it is that, between more running and a grim reminder of the fragility of my nonunion body, I am making a vested effort to slow down a little. I am staying in tonight. I have 3:10 to Yuma on Netflix and a whole binder full of menus to choose from.

That's right, it's Saturday. And I'm staying in.


And it's such a relief.