Tuesday and the ten o'clock run

Well Monday wound up being another off day training wise. What does that commercial say, Life comes at you fast? I had so much work to catch up on, and the girls had tri camp. They wanted to get together with their buds afterwards, but I really needed to get work done and I needed it to be interruption free. We did get to meet up with them later and get an ice cream cone, so that was a nice treat.

Then came Tuesday. Busy as heck in the morning, Brad needed to get into the office, and I had to take our van to get the trailer hitch put on so we can have something to hook our bike rack up to when we take out bikes up to NY for the *gulp* triathlon. I am already peeing in my pants nervous at the distance, I'll do okay won't I? To get back to my original thought here, Brad said he'd be home after his meeting around dusk and we'd go run. No problem, except he didn't get home until almost 8:30, by the time we got to the track it was after 9. I like when Brad brings me along on his training runs at the track, he keeps trying to tell me that these will make me faster. I dunno, I haven't seen the improvement though. So anyway, we have 3 of our girls and an assortment of outdoor toys for them to play with, it's almost dark, thankfully the tennis court nearby has bright, stadium style lights and it throws enough light our way. We start our warm up with a slow jog, family style. The girls were trotting along side of us and it was pretty nice. Then on our last lap, Katie fell down, nothing serious but that sort of broke up the relaxed jog we were doing. It was time to get our heart rates up anyway. Brad said he needed to run 400m, one lap, at an accelerated race pace. He was aiming for around a 5 minute mile pace. Mind you we only needed to do one lap, this would be doable wouldn't it? Did I mention my teenager knocking on my door at 5AM to tell me her throat hurt and me taking her downstairs to get some Motrin to find the devastation that is Apollo wreaked all over the downstairs? He got into Erin's old backpack because she had left over snacks from the school year in there. He also ate, in no particular order, her yearbook, two folders, a doll, an old notebook, a plastic baggie filled with pretzels, a bunch of crayons, a couple of pencils, the box Heather's new sneakers came in and a picture frame. And it's not like he ever finishes what he starts munching on. He chews everything and spits it out, it drives me crazy! At least eat the whole thing and I would never know right??? The downstairs looked like a war zone in a stationary store, the carnage was frightening. I cleaned up, went back upstairs and started watching TV. Once again, in no particular order, I watched the Tour de France, BBC America this money in your attic show with some old guy that collected irons, my favorite appliance in the whole world excuse the sarcasm, and Reefer Madness which had me laughing so hard, I had to switch stations and start watching my local news, to which I eventually dozed.

Okay, off track again, no pun intended, back on track, another running pun hahahaha, I just wanted you to feel sorry for me being as exhausted as I was and here I am out with the bats running. So our girls give us the On your mark, get set, go. Boom, like a cannon ball shot from a cannon, off my husband goes. Flying around the track, then there was me. Speedy as a cork shot from a pop gun! I felt like I looked like Crazy Legs Maguillacuddy. I didn't imagine I looked graceful like my husband did. I felt like I was flailing in all directions. But, in a minute and thirty one for my first lap, I was done. Brad was done in a minute and sixteen I think. Holy cow, if I could keep that pace, I'd be doing a 6 minute mile, unprecedented for me! Now, I only had to do it five more times, wheeee! My second lap was just about the same, as was the third. By the time I hit the fourth lap, I was around 1:35, and as I was finishing I realized that sour taste in my mouth was actually barf begging to come up. Ugh, do I really want to do this 2 more times? The next thing I hear is my girls telling me how awesome I am, how proud they are of me, what's two more times? Who's da woman they keep saying, I answer back meekly, I am? Da woman trying not to hurl on her sneakers. Okay, I can do this I tell the little man in my head. The fifth time, she was a bad one senor (imagine Speedy gonzales' voice here, why is the little man in my head is a mouse cartoon character???). I had to walk far away from everyone because the gag reflex was hard to repress. Then my husband Mike Brady, says something that resonates something in me. "This last lap is the one that's going to make all of the difference. The one you don't want to do, when you do it, it's the one that makes the difference." Maybe there's something to that. My most rewarding workouts are the ones I literally have to drag myself to. Okay, I can do this, I can do this. Our girls give us the go, and there I went. Did I feel good, I tried to tell myself I did. The first 50 meters weren't so bad, the rest were killer. But I finished, just around the same times as all of my other laps, so I was happy. I think Brad was right, I walked quicker to the car then I did when we got to the track. I was faster! Maybe it was the lights had gone out and it was reeaaalllyyy dark, maybe it was just my bed calling me, the lure of sleep, or maybe, just maybe, I was so proud of myself for being able to do this yucky training session, that I was faster, who knows? But it was 10:00 and an hour past my bedtime!