Last night I went to dinner with the Mighty Mime Mafia. Over pasta and sangiovese, myself and Mime 4 were comparing our level of first-week-of-school exhaustion. 4 remembered how our first year teaching one of our mentors had warned us that we would finish each day of the first week by crawling into bed at 6:30pm and passing out. 12 years later, it still surprises me how tired I am this first week.

It's a lot like running. I haven't run in two weeks--mainly because the back-to-school rush makes it uber-difficult for me to pull my butt out of bed early enough in the mornings--and I am dreading my planned run tomorrow because I've lost my momentum, so it's almost like the first run all over again. School is like that. The first week is building up momentum to push you through the rest of the year (or at least until Labor Day weekend in another week).

So I guess I shouldn't feel all that old for having fallen asleep last night at the oh-so-late hour of 8:30 p.m. Nor should I feel old for actually being happy to be sitting on my couch on a Friday night, looking forward to falling asleep while reading.