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The computer is killing me. My work laptop has the absolute worst trackpad. Thank you, Hewlett-Packard! I may bring my computer from home to get through tomorrow without feeling crippled. That or start exercising. Maybe both.

Tonight, I sat on the couch under a cat (which is more comfortable than being on top of a cat, for both of us). My neck and arm ached too much to hold the book I was reading (Running With Sherman by Christopher McDougall which is good and getting better with each page). I set the book down, closed my eyes, and tried to meditate, but the sounds of cartilage moving in my neck was too disturbing.

I should go for a run tomorrow morning, I thought.

I've thought that for two, maybe three weeks, but each morning snooze until I've run out of time for a run. After work, I can't fit in a run with picking up our daughter, helping cook dinner, and whatever else comes up. Really, I just don't feel up to running and so make every excuse.

I should really go for a run, I thought again, leaving off the tomorrow morning part.

Running is my go-to cure for depression and stemming the blues. When I go for a run, I end up feeling better most every time. When I run regularly, I stay out of the blues and the blacks of depression.

I wonder, why the hell don't I just keep running?

I'm reminded of the scene from The West Wing in which Leo McGarry explains alcoholism to a woman. "I drank and took drugs because I'm drug addict and an alcoholic," he says. I've yet to complete a psychology degree (mostly because I've yet to begin one), but it seems to me that my not running and depression are part of a circle or maybe a sphere that tipped just the right way allows me to run 50K but tipped a degree off that axis leaves me on the couch, thirty pounds overweight.

I should..., I thought.

The cat got over me moving her. The dog popped up at the sound of her leash at eight o'clock in the evening. I strapped on my sandals, told my wife and daughter I was taking the dog, and went out in khakis, t-shirt, and hoodie. Not exactly running wear.

I leashed the dog and we jogged down the road. The dog prefers to sniff everything but went along down the block and around the corner. My pace was slower than slow. The distance was maybe once around a track. The dog stopped twice because things just had to be peed on (by her more than me). We returned home almost giddy. I chased her on the front yard hill, her favorite game, then we decided go in and tell people all about our adventure.

I don't know if I'll run tomorrow. I think I should, but if I don't, at least I went tonight. And, depending on the angle and axis around which I end up spinning tomorrow, maybe I'll still feel this good.