It’s Tuesday night, but it feels like it should already be Friday, or maybe even next Tuesday, as far as the weight of the week. Such is life, sometimes. Because Tuesdays are the night that both our children have dance, plus our youngest has soccer, I ended up geographically at the Rec Center, waiting for dance class. And you know what the Rec Center has? An entire complex devoted to sweating it out. And so I did. For what it’s worth, treadmill running is so much harder than outside running. I thought it would be the opposite, so that was a surprise.
Tomorrow is still going to be a slog. Thursday promises to be a little worse. But the end of this long day still saw family dinner, even if it was at 8pm, the last of the leftover cheesecake, for which I’ve compromised my dairy-free stance, and a little time for snuggles. Running — changing clothes, listening to music a little too loud, and watching at once a Sepp Blatter documentary, HGTV’s Flip This House and the Big Bang Theory (treadmills are truly always as metaphoric as they are literal)– was a definitive line between “the day” and “the life.” And after crossing that definitive line, the day was just a collection of Office-esque vignettes and life was flowing on, as it does.
Not every day lends itself to balance, but we can still tip the scales a little more in our favor.
