Preaching to the choir

For the first time in over two months, I went running on Sunday. I only went about a mile, but it felt so good. Why have I let myself get so far away from running? I don't think I get to call myself a runner right now, which is disappointing. I really enjoyed feeling like a part of that fraternity, running down a sidewalk and passing one of my fellow runners. But I've let myself go. It's probably not just a coincidence that I've been in a pretty serious funk for a while. Since I know that running makes me feel better both physically and mentally, I should really do it more often.

And you're probably tired of reading about my dog, but she almost died on Sunday. She took too much food into her mouth and it lodged in her throat. She was definitely choking. It was one of the worst things I've ever seen. She fell over and was flopping around on her side. I'm not sure if she was convulsing, panicking, or if she was somehow instinctively trying to smack herself hard enough to free the obstruction. SO, normally hard to ruffle, was freaking out. He smacked her hard on her back. I did the best modified Heimlich maneuver I could think of. Somehow, something one of the three of us did worked. I never saw anything fly out, so I guess she finally was able to swallow the food. She was instantly just fine. About a minute later, she was sniffing around, hoping to find another bit of that food that almost killed her. Silly, oblivious dog. I was not fine. I was shaky the whole rest of the evening.

Then we had the whole threat about withholding our paychecks.

I've been a big ball of stress. Running more would definitely help with that.