This morning was strangely strange.
For the past four years or so I've gotten up six days a week knowing I had to go to work each day. I've had two jobs, partly out of financial necessity, partly out of a need to stay connected to some fine people. My real job pays most of my bills, while my second job paid for things like iTunes downloads, first-run movies (complete with medium buttered popcorns), Blue Bottle Coffee, Cheese Board cheese rolls, Peets shortbread, and, ever-so rarely, new socks.
The curtain came down on the radio job last week, as mentioned in previous posts, which is why this morning I woke up wondering what I was going to do with myself all day. I swear there were at least a couple of moments when the sense of difference was almost physical in nature.
I usually rush with breakfast, preparing simple fare, like toast and tea, because of the time it takes to make more, and then to clean up the mess. Today I found I had time to make...whatever. Mess, be damned.
I love to run, but have struggled to find the time to fit in all the training I'd like to do. Today I had time to start a six-week training program that will finish with the ability to do 200 situps in one session. Then, I donned my running togs, complete with beanie, gloves, tights, Garmin 305 and my podcast-full iPod and headed out the door for a 13.1 mile run. Realizing I had no time constraints allowed me the luxury of really soaking in the stunning scenery along the Berkeley/Emeryville shoreline. I even took a little break at mile 8 for a quick shot of espresso and a Milky Way bar at the little produce stand at the entrance to the Berkeley marina. Weighed myself after my post-run shower...finally broke the 180 barrier...coming in at 178! It's been YEARS.
After that my wife and I had time to spend the afternoon together. That doesn't happen much. I recently went back on my oath to never again paint rental property, when, as a Christmas gift to her, I agreed to paint our living room, as per her request. We went paint shopping at the Home Depot. So often it's the little things.
We'll paint next Sunday, which has for years been my only day off each week, and my day for sanity-sustaining long runs. Doesn't matter. I can let it go. I can do my long run Monday. What else would I do?