I have always loved August, the ugly step-child of Summer. Most people love June, with the onset of school being out and the relief that comes with that. July is when Summer is in full swing. Fourth of July, dinners out, weekends at the Hamptons. Or wherever people go.
But August. People start to dread going back to work, shopping for school clothes, binders and backpacks. In fact, around here, school starts around August 9th. I mean, there is literally no Summer left at this point. We used to be able to shop for Fall clothes for, well, FALL. Now? It’s hot until the end of September at least, so kids just go back to school in their Summer gear.
I remember as a young bride (the first time), I would get my August issue of Good Housekeeping, and read all the recipes and sit in the air conditioned house silently wishing for Summer to be over. I LIKE it when it’s cold outside, forcing me in the house. I would cook dinners for that husband who worked long and hard as a laborer, and then as a contractor. But. I wouldn’t leave the house.
I liked August also because I was self conscious in the Summer. I was never bikini ready, even as a 20 year old, so all that pool and lake stuff was not appealing to me.
There’s hope in August, too. Everyone’s attention is going toward non-Summertime activities. The hope that all the stuff that couldn’t happen in the Summer, could happen in the Fall.
Which is exactly what this post is about. I have no job. I look daily. I’m very lucky to have landed a sort of part time gig that will pay into my retirement…and I’m only 6 months away from being able to pull the whole thing…to live happily ever after. School will start soon, and while I wish I could join the working crowd, I don’t long for the all night grading sessions, the teachers’ meetings or the inane minutia that goes with the job.
This August, I am focusing on Running Love. Day 1 brings me the most favorite Nike Ad ever. Leave your old self behind. I can’t run. But I get to. On August 27th. I hope.
So, instead of regretting my lost running Summer, I am embracing the hope that comes with the change of the seasons. That instead of the Tucson Marathon, I will be running another one…somewhere else, and much later. Life changes. You can buy the bib, but you can’t always control the ability to use it.
Here we go. Bring me some August Love.