Sunday 8 December 2024 in 2024

Up before the sun this morning—6:30 a.m., to be exact. Sundays always feel like a reset button, don’t they? The kind of day where you can trick yourself into believing you’ll start the week as a brand-new person, full of energy and discipline. So, in the spirit of transformation, at 8 am I laced up my trainers and headed out for a run.

The air was chilly, the kind that turns your cheeks pink and makes your breath puff out like cartoon smoke. The park was alive with other early risers—some running like gazelles, others shuffling along with dogs in tow. I’m somewhere in between, more of a determined plodder than a swift sprinter, but I made it through the 5k without stopping. Small victories.

After the run, I grabbed a coffee from a little van parked by the entrance. There’s something magical about post-run coffee, isn’t there? It tastes earned. I sipped it slowly. No sweet pastry. No crunchy biscuit. No fat slice of cake.

The rest of the day has been a mix of practicality and indulgence. I spent two hours cleaning (Corporate Slug loves a good reset, even if it involves scrubbing sinks) and threw together a batch of soup for the week ahead. Red lentil and bacon, because it’s winter, and I needed something cosy bubbling away in the kitchen.

Now it’s just past eight, and I’m winding down. I’ve got a steaming mug of hot chocolate in hand. Sundays are the absolute best and worst, aren’t they? Full of possibility in the morning but tinged with the shadow of Monday morning by the evening.

Still, today felt good—productive but not punishing, peaceful but not dull. I’ll take that for a Sunday.

V