i ran three miles. they were slow, but they were there. count 'em... 1, 2, 3. i don't usually listen to music when i run, i just think. tonight i thought about my hat. bear with me on this one, it goes weird places.
i have loved three baseball caps in my life.
the first was a gift from my brother when he was in high school and i was in elementary school. it was red and had RBBB in big yellow letters across the front. he and his girlfriend got it at the Ringling Brothers and Barnum & Bailey circus. i LOVED that hat. i idolized clint, and that hat symbolized everything that was "cool" for me. it was part of my uniform for the next few years. i wore it backwards. i was that awesome. you can imagine how pretty i was, and how much mom disliked that ball cap. this time period also intersected my flannel shirt phase. how popular of me.
the next cap was adam's. it was red, too, and said NC State. it was too big for me. i loved it like smalltown girls love wearing their high school sweethearts' letterman jackets. it meant i belonged to someone.
this hat, the one that i'm still wearing now, is the first baseball cap that i have ever bought. i've been wanting one, one that was mine, one that fit. casey and i found it when i was visiting her in princeton. it's Life is Good, beige, with a picture of jake running on it. it is so perfect. this is the first hat that i've ever loved because it was mine. it makes me want to run (because i don't want it to be a liar). it makes me think of casey, and how she knows what i'm thinking even before i can admit it. it makes me think of courtney, and how she goodnaturedly told me i looked "like a tiny mom" in it. it makes me think of the kids that i'll have someday, who will probably also make fun of my hat just like my sister did. and they, too, will love it about me.
strange, that these are things i thought of while running. there was an eternity more, but that's most of what i can articulate. at least, that's what i can articulate that will make sense to people. and here's hoping it did.
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