I'm beginning to think that me+running=catastrophe. First I fall off the treadmill at the gym at prime time for fancy-moms to be there (10:00, right after aerobics or some such class), then I actually get a migraine in the middle of running, now I'm freaked out about the treadmill in general and can't seem to run on it without getting dizzy.
So last Saturday I ran the Houston Race for the Cure 5K. I know, totally small potatoes, but for me it was something of a victory. It was very hot that morning and the idea of (sort of) training for it and then actually finishing it was an important one for me. So anyway, my sister the *real* runner and I complete the race and eventually find our car. And then I smash it in the parking garage! And it's a beautiful car... was a beautiful car. I've never been into any car like I was into that one. As a person who tries to live by the old hippie adage "use things and love people, don't love things and use people" (usually expressed more eloquently than that), I should just be able to shrug this little accident off. And I will, it's just the combination of the cost of the repair and my new suburban shut-in status that are combining to make this something of a challenge.
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