Nineteen miles. Wow that was hard. I felt like my legs were barely even working by the end of it. Exhausting/exhausted. I made a smoothie and a bagel and sat on the couch and watched college football and ate and it wasn’t enough.

Great Sunday. Solid mid-length run followed by a late morning omelette with all the vegetables left in the refrigerator, shower and a nap. Which meant I had about twenty minutes to get to acupuncture 30 minutes away and needed just a little more food so I could zone out on the table without thinking about being hungry. Luckily I had bits and bites from my runner grab bag and a thawed-out banana.

Probably I should make a trip the grocery store.

Climbed out of K.’s car, waved goodbye to O., climbed four flights of stairs hauling my heavy bag, dropped it next to the couch, sifted through the mail, poured out three quarters of a cup of soy milk, dropped in a handful of frozen strawberries and a shake of frozen banana slices, blend blend blend,  poured into a glass and ate in bed just inches from sleep, maybe this is morning after all.

I stood dazed in front of the refrigerator after my desk shift. It had taken me five weeks and a million emails to compile the data for that form, I was toast. C. took one look at me and said You should go to the nutrition workshop. Just go. It’s awesome. So I went and had my cholesterol checked and my blood pressure taken and learned the value of vegetables in a balanced diet and scored a free Aramark lunch. The body’s not yet ready for the return of turkey wraps, and the smoothie was not what I’d make at home (powdered milk and ginger ale? really?), but it was just what I needed, to be told to sit down and eat quietly and listen while someone told me what to eat for dinner.

Lessons in scarcity thinking: When you’re worried there won’t be enough donuts, there are no donuts at all and no chairs either but a proliferation of mushroom soup and pomegranate smoothies.

I walked in and C. and A. sat me down at their bright blue table, issued me a bacon waffle, placed a dish of strawberries on the table next to a dish of apples, poured me a glass of banana smoothie, and handed me the issue of Us Weekly with Jake and his last four Bachelorettes on the cover. I ate while they moved around the kitchen, catching up on how much celebrities are just like us. The doorbell rang at intervals, C. and T. arrived with cans of whipped cream, I. and S. unbundled into the living room a little later, followed by S. I think the waffles would have gone on coming out of the oven indefinitely had any of us asked them to, that whole apartment like a horn of plenty.