I cut my hair again.
It’s been a long time coming and I finally–suddenly–took the plunge. It’s been liberating. I’ve been saying for months that when I was done with the Mini Marathon, I’d be cutting my hair off, getting a new tattoo, a much-needed pedicure, and a really long massage. So this is just step one in my drawn-out, completely unnecessary, long list of rewards for running 13.1 miles.
The pedicure is on hold until after Saturday when I run impromptu half marathon number two. Didn’t see that one coming, did ya? Me neither. Running destroys my feet. After my first half marathon a week ago, I had blisters in spots I didn’t even realize existed. Those need to heal so I’m allowed in the salon again. And this second half marathon nonsense pushes my massage off as well. Some days the only thing that keeps me running is the fantasy of being at the spa, all of this training stuff behind me, relaxed and getting a good, hard rub-down.
And the tattoo is scheduled and I’m still working on the words. Of course, it’s words. I’ve got six pieces on my body and half of them are words or quotes. It’s what fills my soul, calms my anxieties, and helps me celebrate. And it’s why this place exists. Words are my thing. My baby daddy and I have a tattoo date-night planned. That’s either really romantic or completely white trash, depending on the day and who you say it to. Good news, we’re not getting matching tattoos. That would be too much, even for me.
It’s crazy to see what impact running has had on my life. It has affected so many worlds outside of the physical. Maybe because so much of running is mental that it can’t not change everything. Because, for me, it has.