I have a race coming up in about a week and a half. Because my training has been sporadic and very low intensity since the 5 mile in early July, I'm worried about looking like a fool come September 11th and not just because the race is called Halfway to The Fools' Run. I realize the time is now and I need to carve some time in my hectic schedule for running, not just to avoid dying in front of several friends and co-workers but also for my mental health.
A little caveat to my normal training routine: I took the girls with me.
Can we just agree that if . . .
a) The skies are heavy with the threat of rain and humidity is hovering right around the 80% mark causing one to immediately sweat like a whore in church,
b) cramps of the uterine variety are on the scene (sorry, male readers),
c) a 35 pound child is being pushed in a jogging stroller,
d) that jogging stroller is sporting two flat tires (not realized prior to leaving the house),
e) the other child is bike bound requiring retrieval after both a minor fall AND getting stuck in a mud puddle,
f) both children insist on in-depth answers to their endless stream of questions, apparently oblivious to the fact that their mother is struggling to keep sweet oxygen flowing through her lungs, and finally
g) you encounter a swarm of bugs so intense that for a moment you wonder if you've run straight into the first sign of the Apocalypse
. . . the miles logged on that particular run can be doubled?
I'm not ashamed to admit that I agreed with my congratulatory video Nike spokeperson when he referred to me as "badass" for reaching the 100 mile mark since I officially began running again in mid-May.
And The Mrs. says to herself, "You go, girl".