mane of hair

I'm letting my hair grow long. It's not the longest it's ever been. That happened seven years ago before I chopped it off and donated it before my 30th birthday. That was when we went on our cruise, and you can see how long my hair was in the pictures.

I don't often discuss my hair because, well if you know Bill and me, you know who wins in the hair department. He tells me I'm bragging. Truthfully, I'm very thankful. Every time I curl my hair, I say a prayer of thanks. I'm not rubbing it in; I know I'm blessed to have this much hair.

Every time I go to a new stylist, I warn them that I have thick hair. They always brush (ha! pun intended) that statement off and nod and smile. Then, about halfway through the haircut, they say something along the lines of, "wow! You really do have a lot of hair."

Yup. That's what I tried to tell you.

Since I have discovered that I can french braid my own hair, I have started wearing it that way when I run.

Yesterday, for a change, I decided to pull my hair back into a ponytail instead.

Oh, right. That's why I braid it now when I run.

First, I had to use two hair bands just to keep the ponytail in place. It still slid down the back of my head as I ran. Then, as I was running, the side-to-side motion of the ponytail started to make me feel like a horse. It was pretty dramatic given that I'm not used to that much swing. I felt like a pendulum.

I wonder what I looked like…