Illusions

Spring is slow in taking hold this year. 

It's been quite chilly, so much so that the last couple of evenings I would have lit a fire in the fireplace if P. (the dog, for anyone who needs a reminder) and I hadn't gravitated to the bedroom both times, as that is where she seems to prefer to hang out. When I can—which is not always, as I have things to do—I indulge her and we stretch out on the bed together. Or I work at the desk nearby (tonight I needed to file amendments to my tax returns, as I discovered an error in my favor).

Last summer I actually started running shirtless. Yes, you heard me. Mostly at night, with the illusion of darkness (I run on brightly lit city streets). But sometimes during the day I would run in the park, with the illusion of anonymity.

The sensation, both physical and otherwise, was one I'd never experienced before in my life. Air on my torso somewhere other than on the beach. (And eyes. There was that.) It was addictive, thrilling. I ran and ran, more than I had in years, both in frequency and distance. So much so that I gave myself sciatica, which I'm still dealing with.

I'm waiting for the warmth to return.