Last night I went to bed at 8:30 p.m. feeling quite exhausted and with a bit of indigestion.  Although, a mere sliver of the discomfort that I felt the evening before while in the throes of food poisoning.  I have only myself to blame for the indigestion in being less prudent than one should be the day following illness.   For lunch I had a slice of pizza, an arugula, pear and walnut salad and vanilla ice cream.  I had intended to eat lightly and blandly but I was seduced by the lunch special at a new pizza cafe on Ossington avenue.

Because I run at least 40 miles a week and quite a bit more at times, I don’t have to be too careful about what I eat.  I also have a pretty sturdy stomach and a good appetite.  Was illness my payback for stealing the tidbit of prime rib my husband had sliced off for himself after dinner while cleaning up and before putting the roast in the fridge?  I think it is going to be a very long time before I feel in the mood to eat roast beef as it is high on the list of poisoned food culprits, along with the ham sandwich I bought at a tiny snack bar and a danish with a mushy cream cheese centre stored unrefrigerated. A bout of illness is a good motivator to think more seriously about diet.

I woke this morning at 5:30 a.m. and the first thing I said to my husband (even though I wasn’t sure he was awake) was, “Wanna run together?”  He is not a morning person so I won’t go into the details of his initial reaction but run we did. It has been quite awhile since we’ve been able to share a run with his limited routine due to his torn meniscus but three miles was the perfect distance for us both today.

It felt fantastic to get out and move!  It was better than a massage to get those joints and muscles in motion and the sensation of all that blood flow propelled me back to feeling a sense of well-being in short order.  Ah, running . . . how I love thee, let me count the ways.