Stompy

I was grumpy today. The world outside was blustery too, so when K came home from work, I slammed some food in the oven for the boys and put on my under-used trainers and sports bra and went out for a stomp.

Promising to be out for only half an hour, I was favoured with a petulant look that said “aw, but I’ll miss you”. I hardened my heart and went.

I was so grumpy that the stomp turned into a run, which is very much not like me. I am so old and fat and out of shape that I ran for a block, walked for a block, ran for a block, but it certainly got my heart rate up (and my face turned its usual exercise-purple colour — it runs in the family). Actually, come to think of it, I used to do the run-walk thing when they forced us to run on the streets around my school, too (they called it ‘cross country’!), so it has nothing to do with my age.

But now I feel slightly less tense. Except for my head and shoulders, which are tense because I whacked my head on playground equipment earlier (if it had been a cartoon, my head would have disappeared between my shoulders and  sprung back with a twang).

As I stomped I thought about lots of things: from mothering, to house renovation (I was running through pretty and varied neighbourhoods).

When I arrived back, K said, “That was never half an hour…”

Ah well. So much for missing me.

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