No Category selected Lazy Sunday mornings

    Lazy Sunday mornings


    This past Sunday morning, I was sitting in the most comfortable corner of the couch in cozy soft pajamas, drinking delicious maple-flavoured coffee out of my favourite mug. I was waiting for my big, late breakfast to digest so I could go for a run.

    And I was whining about it. “I’m so comfy,” I said. “I don’t want to go for a run; I just want to stay here all day.” My husband looked at me over the top of a flyer he was flipping through and raised an eyebrow, but he didn’t say a word.

    “If I don’t go, I’ll be sorry later in the week,” I continued. Then I put my head back on the cushion, closed my eyes, sighed deeply and snuggled further down into the corner of the couch.

    After a little more whining I looked at the clock. “Nine forty-five. I guess I should go and get it over with,” I said. I dragged my sorry carcass around the house as I got dressed, went to the bathroom, had a drink of water, brushed my teeth, had another drink of water, went to the bathroom again and finally got myself to the door.

    “Have a good run,” said my husband.

    “Hrmph,” I replied. And off I went.

    I ran down a tree-lined street past some old houses and some new houses; I turned into the wind and felt a chill prickle my arms for just a moment before a bead of sweat rolled down my face. I ran down a deserted country road and listened to the birds chirp and sing. I turned a corner and saw some cows grazing right up near the fence; when I came up beside them I said hello and unintentionally scared the cud out of them. Despite feeling a little bad for them I couldn’t help but laugh as they thundered away and a cloud of birds took off from the tall grass. I ran to the bottom of the hill then turned around to go back the way I came. When I got to the cows again they were way across the field – one mooed loudly and I chuckled as wondered if she was cussing at me.

    When I got to the end of my street I slowed to a walk and sauntered the last couple of hundred metres home in the sunshine. I came in the front door and my husband appeared. “How did it go?” he asked with a smirk as he handed me a glass of water.

    “Awesome, of course,” I grinned.

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    A runner for just over four years, Karen has already completed a marathon, two half marathons and a variety of 5k and 10k races. She describes her first marathon - the Scotiabank Toronto Waterfront Marathon last September - as "a nightmare." However, she met a very interesting person in the process - a man named Sydney who was running his 152nd marathon! Although the race didn't go as well as planned for Karen or Sydney, he showed her that no matter how experienced a runner you are, you can still have a bad day. "Does that mean we shouldn't bother to prepare, or maybe just shouldn't bother at all? Of course not!" says Karen. "In the end, it is what we make it." We like her optimism!