Independence

Solo is not a vocabulary word that I use a lot.
In fact, I've done very little on my own over the past 37 years.
I've lived in 13 different houses/apartments with a total of 22 people who were either roommates or family members.
I lived alone for a mere two years.
But it really didn't count because I was approximately three miles away from my parents' house.

You get the idea, right? Independence is not my thing. I'm a pack animal.
I approach my running the same way.
Until lately.
The Tortugas (pictured above) have kept me running the past three years.
Then one moved to Denver. Then there were two.
Lately, those two have had a tough time meshing their schedules. Bummer.

I panicked the first time I headed out for a long run ON MY OWN.
(Have I mentioned that one is a lonely number?)
But then, surprisingly enough, I did it.
Seven miles alone.
The next week, I ran eight.
This weekend, I will embark on my third consecutive solo long run.
If I survive the NC hills of this weekend's run without my faithful companions, I will consider myself independent.
(Girls, don't get the wrong idea. I miss you desperately. But what a good feeling to know that when push comes to shove, I can do it by myself.)


Butterbean is sowing her independent oats lately, as well. This past weekend Geoff went outside to water the flowers in the front yard. Who peeps around the corner of the house?
"The Curly Wonder"
Apparently, she discovered how to unlock the front doors. . . SOLO!