Ok. When we left off, I had mysteriously found myself three runs shy of my goal of four runs per week. Um…er…oops? With three days remaining in the week, would I suck it up and reach my goal, or fall short for the second week in a row?
I’ll give you one guess. Yes, the answer is fall short. Boo.
I tried to run on Friday evening, I really did. I headed out the door at about 4:45 with every intention of logging another 2 miles. I made it half a mile into air that felt like I was inhaling it through a straw made of wet gym socks…another half a mile on pavement that was roasting my feet…and then…and then…I walked. Grr! I couldn’t help it. I hadn’t run since Monday, I hadn’t done a very good job of hydrating, and I was just plain out of sorts. I walked a half mile back to the house feeling very sorry for myself.
On Saturday, the pity party continued. Scott tried to get me to go run in the morning, even offering to drive to a “nice shady trail.” He got, “grumble grumble slow, grumble grumble hot, grumble grumble humid” in response. By the time we left to go to my parents’ house for my Dad’s 55th birthday party, I had pretty much decided that my days as a mommy runner were short-lived indeed. Summer running just wasn’t going to work out. Sure, I felt bad that I was going to have to get back on here and write a post describing my weakness, and I’d probably need to change the name of the blog as well, but them’s the breaks.
My melancholy aside, we had a good time at my parents’ house. My brother, sister-in-law, Scott, and I all descended on the family homestead to fulfill Dad’s birthday wish: an afternoon playing cards with his kids. LilRunr came with us, of course, and he was sitting on my lap while I enjoyed some of Dad’s birthday cake. My brother decided that this was a good time to take a picture. I got the boy to smile a couple of times, but still Brother sat there with the camera pointed at us. Was he taking video instead? “Ah, there it is!” he finally said.
My brother explained that he likes to capture the silly expressions LilRunr makes. So there you have it.
Some time later, my sis-in-law went downstairs to take a nap. She’s 4 1/2 months pregnant and I remember all too well how suddenly fatigue can strike. In her absence, her dog began to get nervous. I managed to get the pup to come and sit on my lap, where she finally settled down to take a nap. (Sidenote: I get along really well with this dog. She’s a chihuahua, so she pretty much acts like a cat. Cats I understand.) My brother turned and said, “well, she doesn’t have a nice comfy belly pillow, but she’ll do, huh, Maya?” Out of the blue, my grandma says, “nope, but she’s close!”
Grandma? You think I look 4 1/2 months preganant?
I mulled this one over on the way home. Scott? Did my Grandma call me fat? He laughs. “Yeah, that was crazy.” Do you think I look pregnant? “No, no way.”
Right answer. Regardless, I need to keep running. I would like to never hear comments like that again, or be mistaken for pregnant when I am not. Oh, and I’d like to be able to wear ANY of my pre-pregnancy clothes.
So, thanks to Grandma’s figurative kick in the pants, it was with renewed motivation that I took up the charge once more. Sunday morning dawned, and I left the non-stop entertainment system playing with his Daddy so I could venture into the sauna of summer. Again.
Ugh. It was not fun. If possible, it felt even worse than Friday, but I forced my legs to keep going. I kept passing casualties from the strong thunderstorm the night before — the dead birds, mole, and frogs seemed like bad omens, but I didn’t heed any warning they might have been trying to impart.
With just under a half a mile to go, I started to feel good about myself despite the physical discomfort. “Look at me go!” I thought. “I’m so awesome, I’ll be back in shape in no time!” These happy thoughts drowned out the approaching footsteps of my nemesis: fast skinny girl. As she zoomed past me, I had two thoughts and only one thing to say:
Thought #1: Dang, I wish I had her calves.
Thought #2: Seriously, does she wait for me to start running to come out and make me look bad?
What I Actually Said: Whoa!
As in, “whoa!” you startled me. “Whoa!” I didn’t hear you coming. “Whoa!” you’re really fast. And then, as I struggled up a long incline, there was “whoa!” there are TWO of them, because yes indeedy, speeding down the hill I was laboring up came Fast Skinny Girl #2. She’s not quite as fast or as skinny as my original nemesis, but she’s definitely in better shape than me…and evidently she likes to run at the same time as me as well. Terrrrrrrific.
Looks like between Grandma and all the “competition” out here in my little corner of suburbia, I should have all the motivation I need to make it through the summer. I’m simultaneously grateful and irritated.