#NationalRunningDay

So National Running Day was on June 3rd, and I decided to go for a run at the river near my house. I ran at the Mystic River Reservation which has a bunch of cute little trails that go in and out of trees and along the river.

Those little gray points are where I took a little bitty pause, and for a good reason. The view was perfect! When you looked straight down the river, you could see the skyline of Boston. And if you turned around and looked the other way, the sun was beginning to set.

The trail was just surrounded by nature. Flowers, a river, super tall grass, trees, pollen out the wazoo, and these giant leaves that were about the size of my head.

If you notice in that picture, I have a jacket on with my hands pretty much covered. Because it was like 50 degrees outside. IN JUNE!? (reasons to love Texas...) But either way, it was a gorgeous day.

Fun Fact about me: I don't like running to rap, hiphop, rock, or any sort of pump up music. Honestly, I am more of a perky, happy, relaxing music kind of runner. & Spotify has an awesome playlist called "Fun Workout" which I completely recommend if you are the same way. (Meghan Trainor is definitely a favorite)

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"We are sorry, you did not match to any position."

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Thank you, Dr. Franklin.

At the recommendation of my counselor and the request of my dear friend, Cindy, I have been tasked to write about you. Yet, I have been sitting here for days. I have been trying to figure out what to say, trying to muster up the strength to sit face to face with this grief and carry the weight of this heavy heart. How do I come to terms with the fact that there is absolutely no possible way to put into words -- words that you will now never get to hear -- exactly what and how much you mean to me? But you, Dr. Franklin, would simply not stand for hesitancy, for stagnation. And I can almost guarantee that you would not want the tears. You would expect and demand action. So while I can't promise you that it will be as pretty as the sutures you taught me to throw or as clean as the gallbladder fossa s/p lap chole, here I am and I am moving.

Empty

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Oh Kay

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