Began yesterday, in more ways than one...
For starters, I announced to the Facebook world that I'm committed to running a half marathon in October. And everyone knows, once you put it on Facebook, the accountability ante is upped by tenfold. Perhaps that's part of why my insane psyche took over my hands and typed it into the little status update box. I mean, I've never even run a 5k let alone a 10k let alone...
13.1 miles! I must really want that little pink bumper sticker. Or a reason to purchase these shoes, which I did:
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| Asics scored from Nordstrom Anniversary Sale |
Maybe it's the shoes' fault. Something along the lines of if you have something this flashy and obnoxious you better having something to own up to.
Regardless, my friend Megan was a huge inspiration, along with a smattering of friends on FB that make that whole motherhood, working in an office and hey, throw in a marathon or two thing look easy. Couple that with some significant life stressors that led me to just needing a new goal and come watch me potentially cross the finish line in early fall. And my friend Jennifer? Training with me weekly despite having a cast removed just two weeks ago. Total rockstar.
Yesterday I ran two miles.
Today: three.
And you know what? They were right. The high of crossing something off your bucket list married with the sensation your soul has left your body and your mind is numb due to pure physical (vs. mental) exertion is well, exhilarating.
We'll see what four feels like on Sunday. Yowzer. And it's only week one...
The second event I'm training for? Re-ferberizing - a parenting method I never really believed in until my child got closer to one and three nights were necessary and now,
two sleepless months later at nearly three years old, a 40-minute conversation with a child psychologist who was doing the whole train the trainer thing. In other words: she was kindly and empathetically telling me to grow a pair.
Night one: nearly an hour of tantrums filled with every word and emotion you never want to hear your child experience. Fifteen minute check-ins that resulted in my peeling him off my neck, tears staining my blouse, which then resulted in me peeling off in my car, my own tears littering my steering wheel. Thank God for Usher, headphones, a pile of dirty dishes and a husband made of steal. The next morning was not just at trip to pre-school, but a guilt one, him saying "I was crying for you and you didn't come. Mommy, I wanted you - why didn't you help me?" Just keep the knife in there and keep twisting, why don't you?
Night two: a quick whine (5 seconds) at bedtime and passed out, promising to stay in bed until the clock hands hit the stickers and anticipating the long game of basketball he'd gain the next day from doing so.
Now why the hell didn't I do this two months ago?
Note I was not saying that last night. In fact I wasn't saying anything because my mouth and nose were stuffed with Kleenex and I was making that ugly cry face thingy.
Training days: one day at a time, all day, every day - to achieve a result you never thought possible and is good for the whole fam.
Surely it will all pay off, right?! And not in that creepy Denzel movie type way, but a really, really positive one.
Wish me luck! And lots of Epson salt, wine, patience, gratitude, persistence and commitment.
Cause girl (and Dan and Wyatt), I'm gonna need it.
6 a.m. update: apparently writing about sleep training in advance is a terrible idea - jinxed! Two to five a.m. was not. pleasant. Must.keep.trucking!
Rounding the corner of the last half-mile, cursing a hill and reminding myself of the Pinterest runner that said something about putting one foot in front of the other, I paused to focus on my iPhone, the familiar scroll of a text crossing the screen:
