How many miles has Mama run?

My endurance run on "the-most-perfect-running-morning-ever" (Saturday) was 10 miles. I ran around beautiful Glendale, rockin' out and loving just about every sweaty minute of it.

Sunday is a day of rest and that's what I did (or at least I didn't go running).

For some reason, last night, I didn't want to go to bed even though I knew I had to wake up early to get boys to school and get my run in. And, you know, one of the perks of being a full-fledged grown up is you get to stay up as late as you want.... but, you also have to get up and be responsible Mama, no matter how bleary-eyed and grumpy you may be.

After I dropped Jon at MHS, I was sooooo tempted to just go home. But I drove my cranky butt to Sharon Woods, stretched beside the slimy green creek, put my headphones in and started to run. It hurt and I wanted to quit. Sometimes you just don't wanna.

Luckily, I've felt this way before (ha), and have become skilled at talking myself through it. "It's not far, Robin, just five. Think how good you'll feel when you get back to this very place in the parking lot and you did it. Focus on that." AND.... I thought about Liz and Joel and all the other cancer patients and families and all the times they have had to get up in the wee hours to travel to a clinic to be poked and prodded and ingested with stuff that makes them feel a catrillion times worse than this whiny-wuss, "I-stayed-up-too-late" yada yada pity party.... and I ran.

And when I finished, I felt fantastic. Bright-eyed and in-love with the crunchy Autumn morning - with the people and their dogs, with the toddlers on the playground and the rest of the day waiting...

I came home and, with a happy sigh, crossed another day of training off the schedule. I did the math and -can you believe? - when I finish tomorrow's 6-miler, Mama will have officially run 200 miles!;-) Go Me.

Compromising with Hope

There's a comforting rhythm and ritual evolving in this training process. Following a day of rest (which just so happened to be the coolest, least humid, most perfect running-weather day we've had since we began - hmph), I wake to early light knowing today is easy to moderate 4.5 miler. Hope dog follows me into the walk-in closet with her question-mark eyes - "Which drawer will she open? Are those running clothes? Are you taking me with you this time?" - her eyes ask... no, plead. As I reach for my shoes, my voice assures her that today she gets to come along, too. Her tail laughs happily as she eagerly watches me stretch. Stretching is becoming a truly spiritual practice - I swear I hear the angels sing as those muscles and tendons ease - I am thankful for the miracle that is a functioning body.
Short purple leash - the running leash- clicks, front door opens, and out we go into the fresh, sacred morning. Hope is hopeless, I'm afraid, when it comes to a training run - she pulls and stops, sniffs and yanks in spurts and fits and bolts like a frightened bunny along the entire street where the train goes by (whether the train is chug-whistling down the tracks or not). Yes, she's a bit of a freak on the leash, but she just loves it - it is the highlight of her doggy days. So.... on these easy/moderate training days, the ritual has become for her to join me round our block, putting in the 1st 1.5 miles. Then, I drop her off, feed her ice cubes, guzzle water, stretch a bit more and head back out for the remaining mileage, which today was 3 - and, after the random tug-o-war run from which I just returned, this self-directed, smooth, even-paced running is delightful.... well, except for the hills - going up hill hurts.
Which is why I come home, lean into the massive strength and beauty of my giant oak and s-t-r-e-t-c-h some more....