Furlough came. And furlough went.
And I enjoyed myself. Had a good mix of friends, family, fun and down time. Probably spent a little too much time in the car driving - about 600 miles and 9 hours - but the end results of those miles were worth it.
Furlough was good.
Then it was back to the working world and reality on Monday. And Tuesday featured an utterly craptastic 24-hours. Tears were shed. Hearts were broken. A Badger was left not knowing what really hit her.
So after all that, I drugged myself before I went to bed to battle a nasty crying-induced headache and made myself face the day on Wednesday. Went into work and I went through the motions. Didn't let myself think too much about the previous day. Just wanted to do the work and get done.
Because after quitting time? I had plans. Plans to revisit the YMCA, a building I had been absent from for almost two weeks. And even though I hadn't run in two weeks and was still battling the remnants of cold, I wanted to reacquaint myself with the treadmill.
I needed to run. I needed to put one foot in front of the other and not have to think about things. I needed to pound out my frustrations as I logged a few miles. And I did. Pushed myself and upped the pace when I got angry. Grasped the hand rails when I felt spent.
But three miles after I started, I felt good. It was 32 minutes worth of chances to let my mind wander and relieve some of the stress that's piled up over the last day. And for just a little while I was able to completely forget about the previous day and how much it hurt.
Too bad I can't just run 24 hours a day. It would make this whole thing easier. But I can't. So I'll just plan on visiting the treadmill again today for round 2. Because it helps.