A run, a special person, and a very suspicious washing machine

Monday. Core at the gym in the morning, then an afternoon run — and I did something I should do more often: a proper six-minute walking warm-up before I even started the running clock. Ease the legs in, ease the back in, then run. Small ritual, big difference.

The run itself was lovely. 5.33 km, easy the whole way, strategic walks, and — the best part — I ran and chatted with a very special person the entire time. The kind of run where the conversation carries you and the kilometres just quietly happen. Those are the good ones.

Now, this run was supposed to be a bigger reunion. A good friend of mine was going to join us — someone I haven’t exercised with in a long time. The last time we did anything active together was a hike for his birthday, two years ago, and it was a great day.

Today, though, he couldn’t make it. The reason? A broken washing machine. He even sent photographic evidence — pictures of a shiny new one being unwrapped.

And I’ll be honest, my forensic instincts are tingling. Those unwrapping photos — were they even recent? Or does he keep a folder of appliance-emergency stock imagery ready to deploy whenever exercise threatens? I have questions. I may need to see receipts. Serial numbers. A timestamp.

I joke, it was a serious home emergency.

But the run happened anyway, with the best possible company, and that’s what counts. The friend will have his day on the road eventually — washing machine permitting.