Running Off the Excess
I bend down and guide my feet into my gray running sneakers. As I tighten the laces, I have to clear room for my shoe among the detritus that covers the floor: cookie crumbs, K'NEX pieces, and Littlest Pet Shop animals. I fight the urge to purge and bolt out the door instead.
The day's unseasonal warmth shocks my system. I throw down my sweatshirt on the porch without giving it a second thought, without questioning how crazy it is to run in short sleeves in New Jersey in December, and I bound down the steps onto the wet driveway.
My feet are weighted down with all of the excesses from the past week. The left one is bogged down by turducken and potatoes pan fried in duck fat. The right one is covered in chocolate yule tide log and creamy cheeses. I feel like I'm running through high calorie sludge. Every step is hard and painful. Yet every step is glorious, taking me further away from my messy house and closer to regaining my pre-Christmas feasting body.
By the time I turn around to go home, I'm not thinking about the pain anymore. The steps are coming easier now and a cleansing sweat is pouring out of me. I can feel the second slice of chocolate cake I had last night melt away. I'm still not ready to see how my butt looks in the pink Calvin Klein running capris Santa brought me, but after a few more runs like this one, I just might be.