It pays to be healthy

A good saying full of intention and positive thinking. Too bad whoever said that was a little too unspecific about who and/or what pays. Turns out, it's my soul.

A bit of background:
Yesterday my roommate asked me if I wanted to ditch work early (yes parents, my boss was ok with it, so no, it wasn't actually ditching, and I had nothing to do anyway) and go for a walk with her in Discovery Park so that we could take in the glory of the Olympic Mountains over the Sound. Not being from Seattle, and thus not knowing what or where Discovery Park is, I foolishly agreed. So we drove her car out, parked, and headed for the trail.
Now, when people say "park" I think, little patch of green junk in or near which there is a body of water which you can walk next to or around and thus spend some time with nature and God and all that other good stuff. Because in Tri-Cities, that's all they can afford to irrigate, and not many people actually like to look at sage brush, go figure.
I do NOT think, nature trail loop that is over 2 miles (we only did half, but we walked that half twice, so it counts) that goes mostly uphill and totally kicks my butt cause I haven't walked more than half a mile a day since I was in London last January.
Moral of this story: My soul hurts. My legs aren't actually that sore since the exertion was moderate over time rather than a dead sprint like a did two weeks in a row the last two weeks I was at Crossroads (thanks Matt) but I'm exhausted. Like, I was in bed in my PJ's sipping chamomile tea and nodding off while reading The Lost Hero (new Rick Riordan book, you're right Bailey, it is amazing!) at 6 o'clock last night. 6 PM. I was in bed at 6 on a Wednesday.
Of course I then got up and hung out with my roomie and her new boy at 9 cause we're introducing her to anime via Avatar the last Airbender (anime? no, amazing? hell yes) but still. I was ready to sleep! At 6! Not healthy! I'm 21, just barely out of college. It's 7:30, the day after the trail...I meant to type trial, but that works too... 7:30, on what is technically my Friday, and I'm already pajama-ed and ready to watch a movie and then pass out.

What I have gotten out of this experience (and yes, this is entirely different from the moral): I am old. I am tired. And I'll probably do some fiction writing after this because I am registered on NaNoWriMo and haven't actually written anything new for it yet.

That is all.