Asa’s eating a pile of pancakes, I’m typing, and NPRs on the radio — and all is right with the world. I did have the worst run ever yesterday, unfortunately. I decided to call it quits after eight miles. I could have kept slogging along for another 16 miles, but it just seemed pointless. I know I can run when I’m feeling awful; No need to do it all the time. I’m not sure why I was so wrecked, but I’m feeling 100% better this morning, so it seems that “listen-to-your-body” was a good decision. Mostly I just hate to give up the weekly mileage — and not knowing why I felt like I’d downed a pack of Benadryl. I dragged around like I’d run 100 miles all day. I’m going to sit down with my training and nutrition logs this afternoon and try to figure it out. I’m also going to do the family budget today. And clean the bathrooms. Then I will drink heavily this evening. (Kidding.)
I got in to trouble with Asa’s teacher last week for not attending his pre-birthday party. All the kids who have birthdays during the summer got feted last Wednesday. She told me about the celebration on Monday let me know what time I should arrive. I told her I had to work. (Sounded better than “go for a long run.”) She said (I swear), “Well, we all have to make our choices.” I almost felt wildly guilty, but it’s not even close to Asa’s birthday. And the only reason he goes to that little school is so I can run while he’s there. He’s also three. Anybody remember any pre-birthday celebrations before the age of four? “Make our choices,” indeed. Thank goodness I have all sorts of other things to feel guilty about; No room for skipping-pre-birthday-party guilt.