An older woman yelled this at me out of her window yesterday while I ran. She slowed her car to match my (very slow) jogging pace, and asked me for directions. Between tired breaths, I sent her on her way, and then she and the long line of cars that had developed behind her managed sped off into the distance. I hope she got where she was going. I know I did.

One of the things that I love about running is the silly sense of accomplishment that it gives me, even though I don’t really go anyplace at all. If my entire day is a wash, and I accomplish nothing whatsoever, one good run can help me to understand that my life (yes, I’m somewhat dramatic) is not 100% certain to go down the crapper.

Isn’t it so easy to succumb to despondency after one terrible week? (Some of us, with a less healthy perspective, tend to do so after one awful day.) It is nice to have something so simple and yet so clearly productive to do. It lets me literally work my way out of a funk, or at least take a break from it.

Yesterday, I went for a nice long run with my good friends, The Avett Brothers.

Thanks, Dana, for the tunes!

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