Suburbs Time

I've been volunteering with an organization called Back on My Feet for approximately three and a half years.  It's an amazing non-profit that uses running as a vehicle to build self-confidence and ultimately sustainability in the homeless population.  Every Monday, Wednesday and Friday morning at 5:30AM, we meet at Saint John's Hospice to run 2, 3 or 4 miles.  Its a great start to the day, physically AND mentally.  

Though, it used to be so easy.  Wake up at 4:50AM, lay in bed for 10 minutes wondering who else gets up this early, hop out of bed and run around like a maniac trying to find everything that I need to dash out of the house by 5:15AM and run down to meet with the team. Chaotic, but my routine nonetheless.  Until I moved to the Hamptons.  For a week, I still tried to get up at 4:50AM.  First mistake.  Do I have amnesia in the mornings??  I would still race around like crazy and have to run almost a mile to my Zipcar before driving the 15+ minutes into Center City.  This goes without saying:  I was late.  Every morning.  

Suburbs time is kind of like the overtime of life.  It takes time and a half to accomplish anything due to the extra cushion of time needed to get to the car or get from the car.  I can't simply walk out of my door and walk to work.  I need to memorize the Septa schedule (which, mind you, never changes on paper but never stays the same in actuality), and be out of the house 10 minutes prior to walk to the station.  Then there is the 15 minute walk to work from the station.  Whew, I'm finally at the office.  Is it time to go home yet?

Thankfully I'm adjusting to this new schedule.  It's a complete shift from the life that I was leading that allowed me to be just 30 seconds behind if I wanted to be.  Just in case you don't know, Septa is not real keen on waiting for me to arrive.  Hmph.  I haven't missed a train in an entire week, though!  The man-friend appreciates it greatly as with every minute that I make us later and later, that little vein in the middle of his forehead starts to bulge just a little...bit...more.

...'til Septa do us part, honey.  I love you.