…the harder we fall. I hate to admit it, and I really hate slowing down. But it’s true. Even if it takes a concrete feast to remind me once in a while.

This morning, I took what was supposed to be a quick run around my neighborhood. About 15 minutes in, I crossed a loose growling dog, who chased me for about a minute while I screamed at the top of my lungs. (Thanks for noticing, neighbors. Keep sleeping in.) I got away just fine, just a bit more out of breath than planned. Ten minutes later, feeling proud at having eluded the foul beast and honestly looking forward to having a tale of adventure to tell, I picked up speed in anticipation of the final leg.

This is, of course, where I hit a hard reality: the fast can’t go on forever. Eventually it all catches up to you, your toe snags a curb, and you’re flat on the ground with a busted knee and shoulder and a raincloud overhead. You’re forced to slow down, whether you want to or not.

It’s hard not to want to push, especially when the ideas keep coming. You want to do it all, be the perfect mom, keep the creative projects going, reply to every email, accept every opportunity…but eventually you have to rest. So that’s what I’m doing. Thanks a lot, concrete.