Day 13. Feeling superstitious. Should we skip today? Nah. Let’s plow ahead, people.
I’m kind of bummed by the announcement that Tokyo is postponing the Olympic Games until 2021. It seems at once both expected (*everything else* is canceled) and shocking: a really grave reminder about the severity of what the world is facing. (This is intense, people. Heed the advice of health officials.) I know our family has had some big disappointments these past few weeks, but I can’t fathom what those athletes—who have worked their entire lives for this moment—have to process. Disruptions to training; concerns about injuries and qualifying again next year.
Clearly, my deep-seated empathy for the plight of these Olympians is borne out of my own natural grace and athleticism. Just today, in fact, I spent the morning perfecting a new gymnastic move that I’ve dubbed the “Inverted Seraphim.” It’s just like a snow angel, but face-first into mud. Bonus points are awarded if it happens so fast you never even see it coming. You can also add some isometric stretching to this move by crawling around the forest floor looking for the earbuds that burst forth from your skull on impact. It’s a great way to work on your core.
How I’d like to think I look. 
Reality. 
Betsy, my neurotic shadow, is really enjoying having everyone home so much. And by “everyone,” I mean me. She likes having ME home. (“Screw the rest of you, you’re not my mom.”)
We’ve been logging a lot of miles outside, and yesterday, she seemed kind of tired (she also did not catch me when I fell, so I was a little upset with her. But also relieved I didn’t crush her.). Around mile three I looped back to let her into the house. Apparently when I do this she races from door to door, whining and moaning and generally being a pill. There’s only so much Pathetic Whimpering Beast that the rest of the family can take, and eventually they let her out, and like a bolt of lightning, she’s off to find me. We have a couple miles of trails cut into our acreage, so she does her best Sherlock Holmes and puts her sniffer to work to find me. It’s a fun game. It also gives my ticker an added workout because there’s nothing quite like having 80 pounds of panting, agitated canine burst forth from the underbrush unexpectedly. That’s some serious cardio.
Be well, everyone, and be gentle with yourselves.
Musings from the Plague 