(No, not up the ass, in the.....oh, never mind, just click the link.)
Behold, denizens of Derfwad Manor. The mighty Mrs. G. has spoken.
And the puny, approval-craving FireCat has responded.
Yes, the short news is that I've been cleared to run again, in slow, teeny little prescribed increments. For the past two weeks it's been fifteen minutes every three days, or about as often as I spend on personal hygiene. Beginning Monday, though, it's bumped up to a whopping fifteen minutes every two days.
Can't ya just hardly stand it?
The good news: even this little bit keeps me from going entirely mazurkoid over research for a critical paper I need to have done by December. There's only so much Thoreau a girl can read before she has to go pound some serious pavement. Or, in my case, packed dirt and gravel, as roads are off-limits except during races.
The bad news: fifteen minutes is about all the aerobic activity I can handle now, just twelve short months after a splendid 110+ mile August log.
Dr. Matron wonders just how much Thoreau a girl CAN read? She's got about three hours and then her own brain pops with all that possibility and beauty.
Post a Comment