I had planned, honestly, to ride yesterday.  Just a little fifteen minute bareback on the Kid to see if he could get stretchy and responsive with my tubby butt directly on his back.

But at about four o'clock or so, my legs started telling me something else.  Have you ever had that happen?  It's like, yeah, we're all for wrapping around a horse, but, if we had a choice in the matter, we'd rather run today.

And I realized that it's been a disgustingly long time since I've run.

And then I was enthralled with the idea of running, the mental vision of my legs hitting the pavement, the stride, the turnover, the jolt in my joints, the air in my nose (even though I'm a mouth-breathing-runner).  I was consumed by it.

So I didn't ride.

Instead, I laced up my new (FREE) Brooks and hit up my ol' training ground:  Lake Mayer.  There were new signs up and the lake has been taken over by some water plants and I really, really haven't been there in a very long while.  Half a mile in, the calves started screaming.  They screamed for the next mile, telling me that they weren't used to asphalt anymore and why weren't we doing short sprints on a grass field, instead?  I was worried about shin splits, because even if the muscle remembers how to run, it doesn't necessarily have the ability to do it safely (something to keep in consideration when rehabilitating a skilled horse).

I did three (point twelve) miles last night and it was easy.  No pain today.  I feel like I've just taken the little edge off the eagerness of my legs to run.  I foresee more running in my future.

Today, I'm working through lunch and leaving early.  I've got an appointment at the Humane Society to take "group staff photos."  This horrifies me.  1) I'm not used to shooting people.  2) I'm certainly not used to photographing groups.  3)  WHAT IF I FUCK IT UP?!