It's amazing how hard it can be to talk myself into doing the things that feel the best. This afternoon, cranky and tired, the last thing I wanted to do was go jogging. It took me over an hour to finally go out after I'd persuaded myself that, yes, I really needed to. Finally, finally, sighing to myself with martyred resignation, I leashed Nika up and put on my running shoes.

And guess what? I feel a lot better. Nika and I jogged along a farm track that runs along the flat top of a hill overlooking the city. Cows and horses munched grass around us under a blue sky. The air was crisp and cold. My lungs and sinuses opened up for the first time today. Nika half-ran (she can only fully run when she's off the leash and free to really let herself go at her normal greyhound-like speed) beside me, grinning widely and occasionally sneaking glances up at me like: See? See? Isn't this the best?

And it was.

Sorry for the whininess of the last entry, everybody.