Towards the end of the summer, I worried Fred was possibly going to dump me if I didn't stop complaining about my knee. When I tried to run and it hurt, I complained. When I could get a good run in, but it hurt the next day, I complained. ('Gosh, what a baby!' you must be saying. It's okay.) Finally, he convinced me to take a full month off running altogether--ostensibly to fully heal my knee, but more likely to have a break from all my grumbling. I obliged. If I didn't, our relationship might have been in real trouble!
A month of no running meant a month of no sweating, no way to get my aggressions out, and no release for the stresses of school, life, and--yep, not running. Although Fred was freed from the complaining about my running, he was then subjected to me being out-of-sorts and generally miserable because of my [not] running. It's amazing how much free time and mind-wandering happens when you don't run 4, 6, or 8 miles after school, and how that can really mess with your mind. A month is a long time to keep it all in. A month is a long time to go without built-in alone time for someone who is around 46 kids all day, has 3 roommates, and spends every weekend with a long-distance boyfriend.
That month turned into five weeks, and then six, but now it's finally, blissfully over! I've been steadily running every four days, then every three, now I'm trying every other day. I have a way to release the stresses of a very stressful job! I have alone time! I'm sweating again! I didn't ever really think Fred was going to dump me. But he might be glad to have a [somewhat] sane and healthy Betsy again. I know I am, and I owe it all to him.
This is the face of a man with infinite patience and far more common sense than myself.
rning about bones! 
