After a pretty good training week, I've come to a hault, and I feel pretty crappy about it. Last night some plans feel through for this weekend, and I ended up on an eating binge. Shhhh.... It's 5:30pm, I haven't run today (yet), and there's a little man sprinting through the house screaming and building forts. I've been at this for hours on end without a "break." Yep, that's parenting! Only his dad, my John, works all weekend, long hours. Usually, I am lucky, and some grandparent saves me for sometime, but not this weekend. So if I am going to run, I have to make lemonade.
This seems like a similiar prediciment that a much more talented runner was in last weekend. She ran 20 miles on the treadmill. I think I'm going to try to harness this type of resourcefulness. I want to run today and run even longer tomorrow. So let's shoot for maybe 10 today and 20 tomorrow. Afterall, right, this is one of the reasons why I'm still participating in the sport - grit, drive, determination, whatevs. Someone who works and parents as much as myself might balk at the idea of sucking it up a little more, going that extra mile, to hold on to something that's mine - running. With me, the fear that this will somehow end is real. As the Tball games start, the playdates multiply, and the sicknesses pile upon each other, I, frazzled and frayed, think "something's go to give." In the end, it *might* be the running. I, vow, though, to fight the good fight, stay afloat, because afterall, it's really something too close to my heart and myself to give up.
And please don't get my wrong - I love my son and my family. I just hate the idea of a weekend with no real options to go run outside. I know many people do this, but this is not me.
It's me and this guy all weekend: