Yesterday was sort of a weird day.  After work, I mean.

I told D that when I started averaging more than five miles in my runs that I wouldn't be working out with him at home any more.  Time to put on your big boy britches, son.

He got home before I did yesterday, so I fed the critters and immediately went upstairs to crash.  I'm having trouble sleeping because if I lay on my back, the back of my skull starts to throb, and if I lay on my side or my face, my jaw starts to throb.  It's really been a pain in the ass.  I've been waking up with head aches.

Last night.

I use an app called Sleep Cycle that tracks my movement during the night and does some fancy algorithm to determine the quality of my sleep and how long I've been asleep and all that.  It's also supposed to wake me up at the best point of my rhythm around the time that I need to wake up.  It's pretty damn accurate.  Last night, sleep quality was a 71%.

Where was I going with this?

Okay, so I took a nap and then headed out to run for the first time in about ten days.  The plan was six miles, an easy, breezy six.  The track was more crowded than it has ever been, which made for some entertaining people watching.  I feel horrible saying this, but I want to bitch at the people who are there obviously to lose weight and won't break a sweat.

At about mile five, which is my problem mile, I wanted to use my hip flexors more and my knees less.  I got into this weird stride pattern that made me think of the power walkers you see occasionally.  I mean, I was super fast (for me) and it wasn't nearly the effort I'd be expended if I were actually running at that speed, but I'm sure it looked weird.  Who gives a damn, right?  But then my abs started to burn and I had to go back to a normal jogging stride.  I could only maintain it for about three quarters of a mile.

The ginormous bruise hurt but the hurt didn't get worse as I ran.  So I ran.

I went and visited with the Kid afterwards.  Loved on him for a minute and then gave him his beet pulp/alfalfa cubes/SmartPak.  While he munched, I tried to love on Sang.  I've had this thing about not wanting to get attached to Sang, because it hurts when a horse leaves or dies.  More so when they die.  And I feel like I'm going to be here when he passes and it's going to devastate me, like Atlas' death did.  I'm the only one who knows the entire story of Atlas' death.  Eventually, I'll tell it.

But anyways, loving on Sang:  I'm worried that there is something neurological wrong with this horse.  I can't pin point exactly what seems off, but he was incredibly anxious.  He's always anxious, actually.  I wonder if she would even consider putting him on a calming supplement or if she would even notice if I did.  If I walk, he follows.  If I'm standing there, he stays.  It's like he's depressed and anxious.  I had a little talk with Arch to be nice to the old fellow.  I hope he was listening.

The plan for today is to hustle home, walk animals, ride horse and meet hubs at the gym.  Then cook dinner, drink the Malibu Banana Rum the hubs bought me, and sleep.  Wee!