She woke up to the alarm at 5:30 AM. She threw on sweats and a T-shirt, stepped out of the bedroom, took a few chugs of purple Powerade and made her way out the door.
She pressed her hands flat into the chilly wet asphalt for a full two minutes, pulled her toes back toward her shoulder blades several times, reached over to the right and also then fully to the left before running in place with a quick hop to get started.
Coming with me sweetie? Meow, I said. I faced the horizon while arching my back up all the way until my tail could touch my nose, gave myself to a generous twisting left and right, didn't want to pull a muscle as I had not been out for a morning run in quite some time.
She made her way past the other abodes, some permanent and some other RVs like there's, letting out a plume of steam into the morning air with each step.
The great morning run, so ripe with opportunity for the two of them to get connected and share each other's stories nevertheless turned out to be a complete catastrophe. Before skittering along not even half a block, Zoe hit a wall or pulled a muscle or strained a glute or tore some kind of hyblinoveviscus tendon… Yada yada… She headed back for the trailer and the dude let her in covering himself in the front with his Cap'n Crunch cereal box.
Later babe! Have a good run.
Oh man! I thought she was getting ready to join me for a jog.
Well, dear… We'll be here watching The Price Is Right when you return. She seems to be a fan of breakfast cereal.
