On new perfect days

Once upon a time not very long ago, I went for a run. 

I ran by the water, down the Jersey shore, along a trail near my parents house. I ran for miles, and miles and miles.

On the way back was Miss Mindy's ice cream shoppe, who makes the best homemade ice cream in town.

On this day not very long ago in a land not so far very away, I thought to myself: this is my perfect day. To run, and run and run, and then to eat Miss Mindy's ice cream to my heart's content. 

In this perfect day fantasy, I ate glazed donuts for breakfast, ice cream for lunch, and ice cream for dinner. And I walked and ran in between, along the water under the sun, with maybe a quick nap in a hammock stuck somewhere in there.

I went for a run again today, along the same trail by the water, and remembered this daydream. And I felt so sad.

How could a day of filling up and burning off calories be my perfect day?

Because I was so, so hungry. My body could think of nothing but the ice cream, and my mind could think of nothing but controlling it.

If you asked me the same question today, my answer would include things like listening to podcasts, reading a book, kayaking on the water, writing an article, doing some nothing in the sun. Connecting with friends, swimming with my family, having some crackers and cheese and a cocktail by the pool. I might have some ice cream, too, and I might also go for a run, if I felt like it. And then I would move on with the business of living.

Because LIFE.

What a difference recovery makes.