You know what? I didn't hate it. I told the Durfette as I headed out that I was going running just to quiet the nagging voice in my head suggesting I go for a run, and I wasn't joking. I honestly thought I would get into it, ask myself what I was thinking, grumble about how stupid running is and how dumb I am for doing it, and then head home, satisfied that I wouldn't have to hear my inner voice suggest running for another year. Instead, I found myself actively enjoying myself, getting into a groove of pace and taking joy in just zoning out. I would do it again, even. Really, my only complaint is that we live in a very hilly neighborhood, and some of those hills are steep. Those I didn't enjoy so much. Did I walk up a few of them? Of course I did. But I jogged on the flat ground, and it was great. I ran two miles, and was sweaty and breathing heavy in the cold air, and all I could think about was doing it again. Which was completely unexpected, and not as unwelcome as I thought it would be.
This week brought four new albums, and one returning favorite. Onward!