Endorphins and I have this love-love relationship.

Except before they show up and I’m stuck at 3 min 12 secs and 0.9 miles wishing I had picked something else to do with my time.

But! Somewhere between mile 2 and 4 I find myself almost having fun. And then at mile 10–

Oh, I’m in love at mile 10.

At mile 10 I decide that I can do 5 more miles. And then five miles later I decide that I can do five more, except that at 16.5 miles I hit one hour and I can’t devote more time to my stationary bicycle than that without thinking of all the other things I should be doing. So after sixteen point five miles on the bike I decide that I will just take a little jog around the block for cool down.

Did I tell you? I’m in love with endorphins.


My job starts tomorrow. I have to figure out what to wear since I’ve decided not to wear scrubs the first few days. Maybe I’ll shop for some scrubs this weekend when I get back from Cypress.

And good grief! Patrick turns 21 this weekend. Twenty-one. I remember when my mom was pregnant with him. I taught him how to crawl up the stairs, ride his bike, roller blade, drive a standard car. What is the world coming to when he is about to turn twenty-one?! My little brother is all grown up now. Kind of weird. I’m going to freak out when he turns 30. Forty. Fifty. Ugh…let’s stop thinking about it.

For the record, endorphins do nothing to lessen the pain of a bicycle seat on your bum. Just in case you were wondering.


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