The weekend came and left. Somehow it is Tuesday. I don’t have a long run recap to tell you about. I don’t have pretty pictures from the trails (except maybe one). Instead I’m finding room for breath in my training plan. Every week I have five ideal runs planned. In the real world I really want to squeeze in four runs and yoga and strength. When life gets really real, I sometimes only run three times. I’m learning to pick and choose my runs based on what time is available and how far I can venture on any given day.
Last week was a great week. I kicked off the week with an easy 3 miles. Tuesday night I ran while Cole was at swim practice. Five amazing miles. The plan called for hills on Tuesday, but my only time for running was during swim. Instead I ran towards a bridge. I changed my goal: run the bridge twice and make it my fastest mile. My bridge crossing mile was run at a 8:49 pace. The entire five miles was an overall pace of 9:19. Wednesday night I needed a night of nothing. I hung out with my husband after the boys went to bed. Thursday I ran trails. Seven more amazing miles where I was amazed by the speed I’m finding in my legs. I’m running 9s on easier trails. This has never happened. My last miles on my runs are reaching into the 8s. Thursday night I was high on running, high on the success I’m finding in my training, and high on what I know is possible. I went to bed on Friday night still celebrating my weekday runs.
Saturday morning I woke. I shouldn’t be surprised anymore. Chet woke up with a fever. We snuggled all morning. Sunday morning Chet woke up and was miserable. We also had a jam-packed day. While Chet rested with Christian, I ran what I could. It was a fall back week, so I was only scheduled to run 10. I got in 5.5 miles instead with my faithful running partner Alex (side note: this was his longest run ever! I’m working on increasing his mileage so he can do more runs with me).
As I went to bed on Sunday, I missed my long run. I found myself contemplating making up the miles on Monday. Logically I know a missed run is a missed run. There isn’t (and shouldn’t be) any making up. I also know I have 15 schedule this weekend. Logically I knew I needed to let it go, but part of me wanted those miles.
And just like that life took over. Chet was worse on Monday. He is teething horribly (possibly 8 teeth). His fever kept spiking. I spent the entire day holding him. Running was so far from my brain. Today (Tuesday) I thought I’d just pick up where I left off. I’d run an easy 4 miles. Instead I took Chet to the doctor. I spent another day pacing the house with Chet.
So I’m listening…
Life is telling me that this week is meant for mothering. A missed run (or a few) won’t make or break my training plan. I’ll be thankful for fresh legs on Saturday (when running time is nonnegotiable thanks to another packed weekend. 5am start time.) I’ll run when I can. I’m mothering as much as my baby needs. And work, well, I’m not going to win employee of the year but there are other years for that accomplishment. I will never get today back, so today I sat on the couch with a sleeping baby in my arms and my heart was happy.