We ran for 16 minutes today, this fat little 5-year old dachshund and I. Actually, the 4-month old golden retriever ran with us too, but she was hiding from me by the time I took this picture, because she tried to kill me 72 times in sixteen minutes tripping me.
Why, you ask, would a 52 year old woman suddenly decide to go out on a cold day when the streets are icy and I imagined the neighbors coming to their windows to laugh at the old lady wheezing down the street?
Because it’s fun.
Because my body is healthy enough to at least shuffle along, and I wanted to celebrate that fact.
Because everybody starts somewhere.
Because the fresh air stinging my cheeks was a rush after a long hard day at work today.
P.S. Don’t worry. The golden and I made up. Sort of.