Short stories from long runs

This blog about my run and training

Last night turned into a kind of funny, ridiculous night. It went like this:

Earlier in the week I booked a ticket to see David Romanelli on his book tour. I took Dave’s class at Wanderlust a few years ago, then read his first book, and have followed his e-newsletters ever since. His new book, Happy is the New Healthy, is about the pillars of happiness he learned from a 110 year old friend he met through volunteer work in New York City. The premise: be happy NOW.

Anyhow. I picked Henry up at daycare and rushed home to get squared away before heading back out. My sister came to sit with him until Nik got home a little while later, but got caught in weird cross-town traffic and arrived much later than anticipated. Running late, I sped out the door and driveway and kept half an eye on the ETA programmed into my GPS, getting annoyed by the delay. But then, you’re going to a YOGA event, I told myself. It’s about finding INNER-PEACE and HAPPINESS. Breathe in, breathe out.

I made it to the event with about 30 seconds to spare and skidded through the doors from the snowy, traffic-laden chaos of the parking lot to a super zen, beautiful yoga studio lobby, with a front desk serving as bar, bottles of red abound. Dave greeted me at the door and we chatted for a few minutes about parenthood, since he’s the new dad to a seven-week-old. He had the same easy-going manner I remembered from Stratton (even though I didn’t relay that I’d met him there before… why am I so awkward?!) and I was glad I spent those last few minutes of my drive getting centered instead of frenetic.

The event was fantastic. I made small talk with a woman named Shae who drove up from Cumberland, Rhode Island for a class and the book event. We talked about the prospect of Dave’s Wine and Yoga or Chocolate and Yoga retreat: the picture of balance and moderation and fun. Dave laughed easily as he relayed stories. Other people in the crowd lent their expertise and ideas. We did a couple of simple mantras and meditations and coupled with a small cup of Cabernet, I thought about spontaneity and how glad I was that I left Henry in Caitlyn’s capable hands to take an evening to do something fun for me.

The event ended and I scooted out to get home to feed and snuggle my baby. My gas light was on and I tried to remember how far I had driven since it showed up on my dash. Henry had cried on the way home from daycare so I didn’t want to stop and then, there hadn’t been a moment to spare between home and the reading. I made my way north up the highway towards home, ultimately deciding to pull off early instead of stretching to get to the gas station I prefer (full serve!) by the house.


I pulled into the station behind another SUV, that took the front spot at the first bay. Instead of pulling in behind that car, I drove down to a farther bay and as I turned to pull up to the tank, my car dead stopped. Done.


Not an hour earlier I sat on a bolster in a yoga studio listening to Dave proclaim the importance of being able to laugh at yourself. Case. In. Point. I couldn’t stop laughing. My car was a mere three feet (okay, maybe six) from the tank, but oh, how far that distance was.

I went inside the station and asked if there was a gas can I could borrow, but the owner said no, I’d have to buy one. Fine. I bought the can and paid for two gallons of regular, schlepping back out and filling it up. A good-humored man in a landscape truck pulled up and asked, you didn’t really run out of gas THERE, did you? He parked and helped add the gas to my very, very empty truck, which was good since I had attached the spout backwards on my own. The entire ordeal lasted ten minutes, maybe. We got the car filled up and both went on our way. I could have easily taken a dozen photos, unable to contain my laughter. It was lucky I hadn’t been on the highway, or an on-ramp, or in an intersection, I know, but because I was three feet from a gas tank, I couldn’t contain myself.

So, as we enter the weekend, I remind you to laugh at yourself. Don’t take yourself, or life, or anything, really, so seriously. May your weekend be full.