It’s actually dark and dreary outside, but the kids are in school and running is not a requirement. Who cares about the rain when my morning is free! This doesn’t happen very often.
At drop off I spoke to Shannon, one of the girls’ teachers. She herself is training for a marathon the same day as mine, so we talked for a moment about my plan for this weeks’ running post illness. It was funny, because I said I was thinking about doing (three runs); 4, 7, and then simultaneously we said, “15.” Like great minds, runners in training think alike. Maybe the 4 will happen Wednesday? Tomorrow seems too soon.
I took my free time to go to Whole Foods sans monsters. What a different experience it is to meander through aisles without pushing a car cart with drivers who only care about the cupcake department.
Millet or Quinoa? Both.
Red Kale or Green? Red today, since it’s local and there was a lot more of it for the same price.
I walked round and round an read labels and considered dinners I might actually like to make. I thought about the packages on the shelves and the contents inside. I looked at every single lovely platter in the warm food section and filled a bowl of hot chicken noodle soup for lunch. I watched a girl dump almonds into a plastic bin in the self serve bean and nut area. I heard a manager ask an employee how she was doing, but instead of eaves dropping, continued on without hearing her response. I checked out the fish selection under the glass and missed Maine; scallops were $25.00 a pound.
I paid and I left.
Before driving off I caught a glimpse of myself in the rearview mirror. I had this crazy goal to let my hair grow until the marathon as a sort of superstitious motivator, like those athletes that never change their socks through their season of training? I’ve been pulling my locks into the highest pony bun I could manage and using little H&M clips to keep up the back pieces.
Not the greatest look, so the decision was made.
I moved the car to a space (across the parking lot) in front of my hair salon, and ran in to see if anyone could fix me.
It must be my lucky day because yes, someone could and did; a sweet girl named Robin. She had a pretty tattoo that wrapped around her wrist; a green star and purple letters that said, “You are my favorite.” It was all yellow and red, too and I asked her to let me look at it.
My little black dandelions need color. I lost my mind for a minute last Summer and had them inked onto my left wrist. Looking at them so lonely in black, I’m thinking a rainbow of color swirls will make them (and me) happier. Please no judgement, life is short.
The trim made me feel a little more human, but my mousy blonde still needs help. Before skedaddling, I made an appointment for the week before the race. I’m thinking a warmish strawberry glaze over partial highlights will be perfect until it’s time for full on Sumer blonde.
Home again to drop off food, a little typing into the blogosphere, and I’ll be out the door again to collect my adorable genetic spawns.
All in all, a beautiful morning even without the shining sun.