Today I took a run. I was planning on going 4 miles, but I had only drank 2 cups of coffee and 8oz of water for the entire day (it was 4pm) and the heat was getting to me. I was tooooooooo thirsty so I called it off after 3.2 miles. While I often seek the quiet mind during a run, I don't always achieve it. Today is a prime example. My thoughts were on turbo-speed. I was having a hard time even getting into any of the music on my ipod and often a song would trigger all new thoughts. Here is a peak inside my mind.
<Here we go again>- OOooooh, I love this song! The video is even better. I wonder if I could dance on a treadmill. No, I can't even walk or run on one without holding on.
Oh shoot! Broken bottle on the ground. College kids drinking and playing beer pong. I wonder as I am running by if they see me as some weird old lady who is scoping them out? Do they even notice me? Probably, since I yelled, "F-ck!" while jumping on glass with my barefoot shoes. I wish I was running faster. That would be more impressive, if I was flying by these kids rather than running at a pace that makes me feel like I am doing a satirical play where I go in slow motion.
<Thrift Store> Maybe I can find the right pace. I did play this song 11 times on my last long run because it was just right. Yep, definitely a power song. maybe I should shop at Goodwill more. No, what if we got bedbugs or head lice. Head lice clean up SUCKS. I should probably check Edie again. Oh, shoot! I think I was supposed to give the dogs their flea treatment this last week. Ooooh, and heart guard.
Damn. This hill is hard. I am thirsty. I hope no one I know sees me right now. Is that Christina coming down the hill in the Subaru? Oh, it is! I wish I was running fast rather than walking up this hill and dying. I don't look very bad-ass while i am dying. Oh, good, she didn't see me.
<Dirrty>Ok, Erika, pull it together. Pretend you are running in that outfit Christina Aguilera wore in this video. She was tough. Get some swagger. Wait, she was wearing leather ass-less chaps. Those sound really HOT to run in. And probably should only be worn by women in their early 20s.... and sexy men in really good shape. Wouldn't it be embarrassing if my saggy mom butt was so saggy in back that it tucked right into the legs of the chaps? Yeah, Erika, NEVER wear chaps.
Speaking of butts.... I am concerned as to where the bloomers of this running skirt may have migrated to. Is it worse to pick a wedgie while running or to pretend you don't notice it, but each breeze that blows the running skirt up shows to everyone that you have a massive wedgie? Is there a sly way to take care of this problem? Maybe I could squat down to "fix my shoe" and take care of it?
Running down this hill is fun. I wish all hills were only downhill. Maybe I should walk up it so I can run down again? Suck it up, baby, Mankato won't get any flatter before the marathon in October.
Why do I feel like I might die today? Can I pull it together tomorrow for a longer run?
------------------------------------------------------------------
And on and on it went. 3.2 miles of constant brain chatter. Hopefully tomorrow will be a quieter brain since I am hoping for 8 miles. I don't know if I can handle my brain going on and on and on for 8 miles.
Saturday, May 18, 2013
Monday, May 13, 2013
So glad Mother's Day is over!
Yesterday was a rough day. It was supposed to be a special, nice day and instead, my favorite part of the entire day was bedtime. Being a mom sometimes sucks.
I would first like to explain that Joe's back has been bothering him for a week. Then on Saturday we moved some heavy concrete. Sunday at 1am he woke up in horrible pain.... like bring a grown man to tears kind of pain. Fritz woke up at 1:30 and I couldn't get him back to sleep until 5am, something was bothering him and making him cry out and be really restless. So, I was going into the day pretty sleep deprived. I went back to bed at 6:30am and stayed there until 8:30am... grand total I got about 4.5 hours of sleep.
At 8:30am I got up because of the screaming fights coming from downstairs.... not because of the delightful crackle of bacon or the smell of fresh coffee. Joe couldn't make anything (stuck flat on his back on the couch), even though there had originally been a plan for breakfast in bed. My feelings were a bit hurt. Not because Joe couldn't do it, but because the kids didn't try to do anything. I had even told the kids the night before that I would accept leftover pizza for breakfast in bed. They decided they would rather play on their Kindles. No one wished me a happy Mother's Day. No one tried to figure out how to work the Kuerig to make me a quick cup of coffee. None of my kids gave a shit.
So, I did what I do nearly every morning. I did the dishes, cleaned up the kitchen, cleaned up their breakfast dishes that they left laying about, nursed Fritz, changed Fritz, let out the dogs, fed the dogs, etc, etc, etc. I decided once everything was finished that I would take myself for a nice, long run. The sun was shining, birds were chirping, my marathon training plan required some attention. While my husband told me to go, my oldest child started yelling at me. I asked all the kids to help watch Fritz while I was gone since Joe couldn't move. She decided this was unfair as she wanted me to take her shopping. Keep in mind that I HATE shopping and we had never said that we would go shopping anywhere. She wanted colored pencils and she decided that riding her bike to the store in town wasn't good enough. She also decided that she could not wait until I got back from my run, but wanted to go right in the middle of when I was going to be gone. She was really mean about all of this. I cried my whole way down to where I was going to run.
My run was lovely, but slow. I was tired and worn down. I got home to find napping baby and Joe, so I just rested quietly. Once everyone discovered I was home, it was back to normal life. Kids fighting more and needing me to break up fights. Yelling at me for not breaking these fights up fairly. Telling me that I am a horrible parent. Thank you. That is just what every woman wants to hear on Mother's Day. By the time bedtime rolled around (which was 1.5 hours early for the one child who had been the meanest to me), I had been yelled at pretty much all day. I felt verbally abused. I had been told that I was hated at least 5 times, told I was a bad mom at least 3 times, and I am pretty sure at one point I heard someone say our youngest child's initials at me (which is a very, very bad thing), but I was too broken hearted to find out for sure.
Had Joe not been hurting so much, I would have left in the morning and not come back until they were all in bed. I would have found something to do by myself rather than be with crabby people who were getting their kicks from being mean to me. I was stuck, though. Had it not been Mother's Day, it would have just been a not-so-great day of cranky kids, but since it was supposed to be a day about showing appreciation, it stung extra. Many of my friends were getting lattes in bed or handmade cards or extra hugs. I was getting, "I HATE YOU!" Maybe my expectations were too high for the day. Whatever it was, I am glad that day is over. Now we can just go back to normal life.
I would first like to explain that Joe's back has been bothering him for a week. Then on Saturday we moved some heavy concrete. Sunday at 1am he woke up in horrible pain.... like bring a grown man to tears kind of pain. Fritz woke up at 1:30 and I couldn't get him back to sleep until 5am, something was bothering him and making him cry out and be really restless. So, I was going into the day pretty sleep deprived. I went back to bed at 6:30am and stayed there until 8:30am... grand total I got about 4.5 hours of sleep.
At 8:30am I got up because of the screaming fights coming from downstairs.... not because of the delightful crackle of bacon or the smell of fresh coffee. Joe couldn't make anything (stuck flat on his back on the couch), even though there had originally been a plan for breakfast in bed. My feelings were a bit hurt. Not because Joe couldn't do it, but because the kids didn't try to do anything. I had even told the kids the night before that I would accept leftover pizza for breakfast in bed. They decided they would rather play on their Kindles. No one wished me a happy Mother's Day. No one tried to figure out how to work the Kuerig to make me a quick cup of coffee. None of my kids gave a shit.
So, I did what I do nearly every morning. I did the dishes, cleaned up the kitchen, cleaned up their breakfast dishes that they left laying about, nursed Fritz, changed Fritz, let out the dogs, fed the dogs, etc, etc, etc. I decided once everything was finished that I would take myself for a nice, long run. The sun was shining, birds were chirping, my marathon training plan required some attention. While my husband told me to go, my oldest child started yelling at me. I asked all the kids to help watch Fritz while I was gone since Joe couldn't move. She decided this was unfair as she wanted me to take her shopping. Keep in mind that I HATE shopping and we had never said that we would go shopping anywhere. She wanted colored pencils and she decided that riding her bike to the store in town wasn't good enough. She also decided that she could not wait until I got back from my run, but wanted to go right in the middle of when I was going to be gone. She was really mean about all of this. I cried my whole way down to where I was going to run.
My run was lovely, but slow. I was tired and worn down. I got home to find napping baby and Joe, so I just rested quietly. Once everyone discovered I was home, it was back to normal life. Kids fighting more and needing me to break up fights. Yelling at me for not breaking these fights up fairly. Telling me that I am a horrible parent. Thank you. That is just what every woman wants to hear on Mother's Day. By the time bedtime rolled around (which was 1.5 hours early for the one child who had been the meanest to me), I had been yelled at pretty much all day. I felt verbally abused. I had been told that I was hated at least 5 times, told I was a bad mom at least 3 times, and I am pretty sure at one point I heard someone say our youngest child's initials at me (which is a very, very bad thing), but I was too broken hearted to find out for sure.
Had Joe not been hurting so much, I would have left in the morning and not come back until they were all in bed. I would have found something to do by myself rather than be with crabby people who were getting their kicks from being mean to me. I was stuck, though. Had it not been Mother's Day, it would have just been a not-so-great day of cranky kids, but since it was supposed to be a day about showing appreciation, it stung extra. Many of my friends were getting lattes in bed or handmade cards or extra hugs. I was getting, "I HATE YOU!" Maybe my expectations were too high for the day. Whatever it was, I am glad that day is over. Now we can just go back to normal life.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)