Possible, after all.

Just in time for the back-to-school sales, summer, at long and excruciating last, appears to have arrived. And I have, too—at the cottage, where I’ve fallen recklessly into categorical no man’s land: sunbaked, sand-spattered, slipshod.

Something there is about a summer getaway that makes a girl lose her way. Discipline, under the white blast of beach-bound sun, gives over surprisingly easily to inattentiveness and defeat. How much less troublesome it is to satisfy appetites with a bag of twisted orange phenomena adorned with a cheetah mascot than to actually think and prepare a healthier choice!

How much less work it is to let day slip into evening cat-stretched on an expanse of terrycloth along a strand of dreams than to engage the muscle sets into any kind of purposeful activity!

And so it has been with me, for longer than I care to acknowledge, on this summer respite from all things responsible. Truly, I’ve been eating like a teenager here: vast trays of French fries alongside pools of ketchup dip; fried-onion-smothered footlong hotdogs swallowed down by the inches; blizzard-whipped ice cream and candybar miracles in a cup with a spoon; and, of course, an endless infusion of Cheetohs.

My running regimen, meanwhile, has run flat out. Nightly raids in my Nikes have given way to nightly respites in my nighties. I’d sooner splay out in front of a repeat episode of Cake Boss these lazy turns of the clock than muster up the will to see through a personal promise.

The running shoes I packed for the getaway, back when I was still convinced of my ability to have it all, sit untouched on the deck beside a spray of beach sand and a tipped-over bottle of sunscreen. My feet will find them now, and remember the way their addition to my body makes me feel like it has springs. My iPod will wrap around my left arm, and its buds will nestle into my ears. And then my soles will find the pavement, and then again. And again.

When my run is finished, I will celebrate with something green and leafy and possibly embellished with goat cheese.

And tomorrow, I will be one day in to an experiment that proves that having all things—beach, sunshine, relaxation and heart health—are possible, after all.