So I get back from drill this afternoon. It’s a beautiful day (don’t let it slip away), and Missy and the boys are out back on the playscape. She says “Hey, watch the kids, I’m going to go run.” I say “Ouch, ouch, twist my arm… OK” and she’s off before I can stop the baby from drooling on my uniform.
Not so long later, she swings back in (as I’m pulling frozen pizza out of the oven – mmmm, Freschetta). I ask her how it went (’cause she’s usually a treadmiller – combination of the kids and growing up in Houston where running outside was only an option for like three days in February), and she’s beaming – she ran to the fruit stand on the Gold Star Highway. (Woah) I think. (That’s something to which I’d probably drive instead of walk. Plus, there’s a fierce hill, too – could even rule out the bike…)
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