This is just to say …

Running sneaker with an untied shoelace.

I am going for a run this afternoon.

A jog is probably a better term …

A huffy little sprint?

No, sprint is too optimistic. I plan to huff and puff.

I will bravely don my (too tight) leggings and winter hat and mittens (it’s still cold here in northern Wisconsin) and, oh, a shirt and a jacket, because nudity is frowned upon, and I will see what this middle-aged body can do after 12 months of life during a pandemic, 12 months riddled with anxiety and stress and depression and unemployment and reading and writing and contributing and working and cooking and laughing and …

It’s just a run, okay? Best not to put too much pressure on it.

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