WEATHER: Hot and humid. Which I sort of love.
MILES: 10!!!!!
MILES THIS WEEK: 19.
WHERE TO: Tralalalala, fields of happy green non-injured beauty, covered in bunnies and flowers and, yeah, OK, a few blisters.
MOOD: Ecstaaaaaatic.
ADDITIONAL NOTES:
When we last left off, we had worked our way through Stage 2, which involves copious amounts of anger and questionable ways of dealing with it.
And now, reluctantly, I invite you to enter
Stage 3: Mourning
Alright, sweetheart. Let it out. Cry open-mouthed, choking sobs and bang your fists on the floor. Drink a pint of Wild Turkey. Make and eat an entire loaf of banana-peanut-butter-chocolate-chip bread WITHOUT EVEN BAKING IT. <rubs your back, holds you close> There, there. Yes, I realize that you just vommed whiskey/batter all over my chest. It’s OK. Shhhhh-
<smacks you upside the head>
Ok, 30 seconds is up. Mourning is over. Now it’s time for:



