Recently I’ve discovered a fondness for Sunday mornings.
There is a stillness that, in the city at least, is unique to Sunday mornings. Most of the city wakes up late, so the streets are deserted and calm.  Which is why, as someone who fancies herself to be claustrophobic, it’s my favorite time of the week to explore.
This Sunday morning, though, was even better than most.  Â
Because this morning, I woke up to a beautiful summer day in San Francisco.
In February.
Not to rub it in to anyone who might be reading from another part of the country, but um, why do you live there? You should live here. It’s way better. We get seventy degrees and sunny in the middle of “winter.”
(Let’s just ignore the whole verge-of-bankruptcy thing and ridiculously high cost of living and taxes for a moment.)
The hubby decided to take advantage of the beautiful morning by going for a quick run to the Golden Gate Bridge. He wanted me to join him but I am under no delusions of being in good enough shape to keep up with him for 8.5 miles (roundtrip, but still about 6 more miles than I am comfortable with).Â
I did however finally convince myself to take advantage of the empty treadmill and despite my goal of thirty minutes per day, I’ve now managed to spend a grand total of  forty-five minutes on the treadmill a mere thirty-seven days into the new year. Luckily, my expectations for myself in the exercise-department were not exactly high to begin with so I’m actually kind of proud of myself that I exercised sometime in Q1.
We originally planned to drive over to the farmer’s market when Paul finished his run, but he had passed by on his way to the bridge and said it looked packed and he didn’t think we’d find parking. Since it was such a beautiful day out and I was riding the momentum of non-laziness from my morning jaunt, we decided to walk to Fort Mason instead.
My hips were hurting a bit already but we made it there in decent time and the scenery was gorgeous and so worth the arthritis. I got to see Paul’s jogging route and I must say if I were a single gal in the city, I’d probably get familiar with that path, if you know what I mean!
After we picked up a bunch of fresh fruits and veggies from the market we grabbed a cab and headed home so Paul could make his Superbowl Sunday seven-layer dip (which I’m currently recovering from, from my natural position on the couch in front of the tv =).Â
And now it’s kick-off time and I’m trying to remind myself to enjoy days like this while I can because one way or another we will have kids someday and, God-willing, Sundays like this will be nothing but a fond memory…