Feet . . . meet ground

Three bags of sugar. Yum. Yep, that's what I brought with me from my springtime of pain and play (and no, that ISN'T a veiled reference to S&M . . . ask anyone, I don't veil things like that). Three bags of sugar that are pulling the new clothes I bought back in January into all sorts of disconcerting shapes. Yes, I was injured, the pain was crazy intense, like childbirth sort of but dragging on for weeks and weeks. Worth at least one of those bags. But the other two I picked up on the shores of hedon. Rich food. Sweet drinks. Intoxicating company. Deliciousness ran away with me.

So, I'm still inhaling draughts of sweet spring turned heavy with mature green, BUT, beating my arms against the thickness of summer I'm pushing myself back down toward the ground. Feet . . . feel the street again. Feel the solid beneath me and in me.

I walked the Peachtree Road Race. I felt slow and lumbering but I also felt connected with that ground. All 167 lbs of me. Yep, there it is. A number I thought was long behind me. Already back down to 164 with my new elliptical and the clearing of the food fog that has obscured the bags of sugar I've just been inhaling without thinking.

Here's to getting some traction.