A jolly old man jogged past me on Friday morning. “Jolly old man” seems like such an overused expression, but there is just no better way to describe him. His elbows were out wide and he waddled from side-to-side as his stark white hair curled over his stark white sweat headband. And, yes, his stark white T-shirt was in perfect coordination with the jolly-jogger look.
He waddled my way and stopped cold in his tracks. “Smile, young lady, it’s Friday!” He grinned from ear-to-ear. He certainly wasn’t out jogging in preparation for a marathon, as he was more concerned with interacting with his surroundings than pushing for a record time.
I think the outfit was just a nice attempt to be in the jogging spirit.
I chuckled back and put my head down to stare at the sidewalk. I really didn’t even know I wasn’t smiling. Fridays are pretty exciting. But Fridays are also exhausting.
Fridays are when my body screams that it can’t take anymore—no more early mornings, days of stress, and late nights. No more pretending to be normal.
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