Mar. 1, 2008 at 3:39pm

what the fork?

(did I do something to adversely impact my chi?)

I promised myself that effective March 1, I would be well again.  Happy.  Obscenely optimistic, bubbly, effervescent, positive, a ray of sunshine piercing the shield of grey known as "Tacoma early spring."

Today is that day.

I wake up, and have a play day at Learning Sprout with S DeR and our sweet cherubs, who are deciding to act decidedly uncherub-like.  Oh well, I've got a new attitude and I exude lightness and a butterfly-princess-like aura; a choir of angels surrounds me with a triumphant chord wherever I go.

We go to Paddy Coynes, food is slowish and cherubs are decidedly more decidedly uncherubic, and yet, there's that choir.  (or is it tin whistle and fiddle? who cares, happiness and light; happiness and light.)

We get a mid-afternoon caffeine fix, my cherub goes with her cherub (they are in sweet little girl spirits, once again, buoyed by food and an ice-cream-cone shaped sucker) and I have an afternoon to myself to either a. exercise my body or b. clean and launder.  Being that our flight has been booked and our condo deposit paid, I have a bikini to get into in three weeks, fo-sho.  Exercise, it is (nobody on Maui will appreciate my spotless floor.)  

The choir is still following me, though they falter in their notes, as I am on a mission to find the damn iPod.  I have a goal, to log as many miles as possible, pre-Maui so that I have runner's legs of steel, to work my triceps to 39 year-old perfection, and to get my abs rock hard.  (please, laugh.)  The iPod is my key to this physical beauty, and I can't find the thing.  Or my shoes.  Finally, in his workout bag, I find the electronic wondertoy; on my third go-round of the house, I find my shoes in the dog leash box.

Magical.

Until I get outside.  The angels fly away yelping, as rain is pelting them despite sunny blue skies.  No, really.  I resolutely press the nike+ button, the 'pod searches for sensor.  Three times.  To no avail.  I take off my shoes, push buttons, swear, realize that's conduct unbecoming to an aura-lit butterfly-princess, and smile as I push on once more, saying, "super! I can get a double workout, and bike the route to clock my mileage.  No problem."

I get to the zoo, sweating shafts of light profusely through my Patagonia fleece; my Nike running tights want to travel south of my butt, leaving me (I'm certain) looking like I have a load of something that I'm carting.  And I smile, happy to be a vital, active piece of this pre-spring day.  And I get to the top of the Point Defiance Zoo parking hill (not to be confused with the Point Defiance Zoo deer-pee smelling hill) and realize the road isn't there.  There are roadblocks and fresh mud pits and mounds of dirt to navigate, which would be fun if I had a mountain bike, but I doubt my Merlin wants to falter through this crap.    

On I press, figuring I will do timing instead of mileage... damn, what time did I begin the run?  No worries, I smile, I run, I listen to iLove pushing me on, I burp the odd "chicken skewer, meet latte!"- burp.  Really, that last bit is worse than it sounds.

But also, really, it was a good run.  A good time.  Good sweat, no lung-bits hacked up, elevated mood despite the many forces of karmic retribution trying to bring me down.  The clouds had that light-dappled cotton-fluff look to 'em, the water flashed a brilliant, cerulean blue.  

Despite it all, it's March 1, and I'm well again.