Today I woke up and it was just one of those days you don’t even want to get out of bed. The covers were so warm and sleep was still so near I could drift back into dreamland.

But NO! I HAD to go running! I slowly dragged myself out of bed and wondered why in the world I was in such a bad mood. I am in England of all places!!!! I put my tangled hair into a topknot and threw on a pair of joggers. Down the stairs I went to the dining hall. After two cups of coffee and a bowl of yogurt with fruit and granola I was feeling only slightly more awake. I grumpily put away my dishes and walked out.


As I got to the door I realized it was misting outside. Great. You can still go back up the stairs and go to bed, the little voice in the back of my head said. I wouldn’t allow myself to do that though. I also didn’t really feel like climbing three flights of stairs to get back to my room again. So I got up and walked out into the early morning mist. I jogged to the park just to get a little bit warmed up. It was so freezing! I half expected the park to be empty as it was so awful outside. I was proven wrong though. The British apparently jog rain or shine.

With G-Eazy blasting in my ears I jogged down the path.  The trees were shrouded with this beautiful cobwebby mist and I grudgingly had to admit the aesthetic made me feel a little better. The fog was as thick as pea soup as I neared the river. The joggers emerged from the fog like ghosts- friendly ghosts for the most part. One difference between Americans and European joggers is that American joggers always jog on the right of the path. You jog like you’d drive a car! Right?! Umm… not here! Some jog on the left and some jog on the left. Also, they do NOT move. I made eye contact with a ripped jogger coming at me full force. I was on my left and he was on his right. We faced off and I stared him down. He nearly ran me over as literally last second I artfully jumped into the grass to the side of the path to avoid being plowed into the gravel. This isn’t the first time such a faceoff has occurred- both jogging on the right and the left. It’s really odd.

I jogged deeper into the park and ran into the cutest little old lady. She was freaking wearing a pink jumpsuit. SO BETTY WHITE-ESQUE. She had to be at least eighty years old with white fluffy hair in that poofy old lady style. She was adorable and jogging with more happiness than a woman of half her age was capable of. She smiled and said hello as I past her. She made my day. Her smile and greeting seemed to summon the sun to come out of the mist and illuminate everything in sparkling crystals. It  really made my morning magical.


On the way home I stopped to stretch. As I was leaning up against a park bench I smelled something foul. Was I really sweating that bad?! I couldn’t be! Upon closer examination I found my foot was planted mere centimeters from a giant dog turd. Well I thought my day had turned around… At least I didn’t step in it!



P.S. I somehow forgot to take pictures on this trip through the park so I used some stock photos to illustrate my morning. 😉


One thought on “Commitment

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