Mom, Interrupted

Mornings at our humble Estate begin this way: the babe cries to alert me to his full diaper and dissatisfaction with location.  I grope my way blindly to his crib, correct problem #1 and transfer him to our bed, thereby correcting problem #2.  I typically crawl back in for a snuggle while we catch up on the previous night's installment of The Colbert Report and The Daily Show.  (Look at me, a news junkie...) 

You can see why I get excited...

Now, if you've read previous posts (which of course, you HAVE) you know that I spent much of last summer and winter prepping for my marathon by rising early for lengthy runs.  So now that I've moved on to Insanity, that's continued...or not...because actually, I have been sweatin' away during nap time.  Much less chance of interruption by children who expect to be fed or dogs that confuse linoleum with lawn. 

This morning, now...this morning...a fellow Insanity challenger tagged me in her Facebook post and that got me all kinds of antsy for my workouts (I have one to make up from yesterday as my own dear mama was up for a visit).  I stopped Colbert mid-snarkiness, put on actual clothes and started my coffee (which I needed to deal with those lawn-confused mutts and their own status updates all over my floor).  Hubby even settled the babe in with Elmo and the gang, so things were lookin' good. 

Then Hubby took a shower.  Damn him!  The babe became quite upset; the mutts desired a chance to defecate outside; I discovered itty bitty ants all around my kitchen sink; dishes needed done; the 6-year-old awoke...Damn it all to hell! 

I am currently baking banana bread and writing my blog.  Two things I can do whilst also running the household and cursing my lack of a full staff here at the M&M Estate.

It smells delicious.

But here's my point: I could say "To hell with it!" and climb back under the covers and snuggle on this incredibly stormy and gray day - and at some point, I can pretty much guarantee you'll find me and three little monkeys watching The Sandlot or Princess Bride.  HOWEVER - you will also find me (at some point, hopefully around 11 or 12) doing push-up jacks, power squats, and the like.  Because I WILL NOT ALLOW a thing like "life" to get in the way of my fitness goals. 

See, that's the excuse I am always hearing, more than any other.  (Except maybe motivation.  But then I just say, "Read my blog" and people get all transformed and shit.)  "I don't have the tiiii-iiiime."  That word - TIME - is nearly always said with a whiiiiiiiine, so right away, I am irritated.  Whiners and pansies are right at the top of my "No Way, Uh-Uh List."  I don't hang with 'em.  You wanna complain about your dissatisfaction - I'll listen.  But if I offer you ideas, if I offer you solutions - and then you prattle on searching for MORE reasons to NOT handle your shit...well, let's just say we probably won't be talking much after that.  You may be talking, but I will have stopped listening and begun contemplating the lint between my toes.

There's a difference between having the time and making the time.  You either want it or you don't.  If you don't, that's your choice.  But don't come crying to a FitGal with your scheduling woes.  I currently manage the lives of four other people and two furpeople (no one can manage a cat, so I won't even include those arrogant balls of fluff).  At any point on any given day, I am breaking up fights, disinfecting surfaces, laundering, cooking, planning, chauffering, shopping (and not the fun kind, so wipe that smirk off your face), nursing, organizing, or supervising...but that's every parent (or should be - don't even get me started!).  I'm not unique in my overpacked days - and NEITHER ARE YOU.  So save your sad story for your Facebook status.  (And please, make it vague and slightly dramatic so you get lots of attention).  I am actually too busy to listen.

Whiny Little Son of a Shin

It rained Saturday.  I had big plans - 16 miles.  And I don't mind a little cooling rain while I run.  So I waited until things faded to a light drizzle and started piling on my gear while Hubby mixed my E&E Formula and filled my water bottles.  I was genuinely excited to tackle my longest run to date, as that would provide me with my biggest bragging rights to date.  Plus, that marathon is getting closer and I still have little itty bitty nagging worries buzzing in the darker corners of my otherwise enthusiastic brain.  So, sixteen miles.  Or eight.  Eight's good, right?  Because that's what I eked out before I had to call in backup.

Maybe it was the cold.  Maybe it was the rain.  Maybe it was the two together.  Whatever the (f&*#ing) reason, my right shin was not in the mood for a good long run.  Apparently, it would rather have been home soaking in a warm bath and reading Abraham Lincoln, Vampire Hunter.  I tuned it out much the same way I tune out the incessant whining of children when we are trapped in the house for hours at a time in such weather.  (I mean, really, how many times must I pretend to care that she gave a mean look or he refuses to stop speaking like Yoda?)  My cardio was fabulous; my knees were showing solid improvement and no need to even take a break.  I had my intervals up to 4:1 and I really didn't feel like I even needed the 1 (but I was being responsible and knew I needed to keep it if I wanted to finish my sixteen).  So what if my shin was whining about my foot hitting the road?  It needed to buck up, buttercup!  I only have so much time available for this sort of training.

But my shin seems to be as bullheaded as my daughter.  When it was unable to garner enough attention through tiny tweaks and pulls, it gave an all-out shriek a try.  Guess what?  That worked.  I stopped.  I walked.  I did (or tried to do) shin taps to work it out.  And I eavesdropped on the debate between my Ego and my Sensibility.  Ego was all for working through it (no pain, no gain!), but Sensibility felt we should all stop acting like crazy women on the side of the road, muttering and walking in circles, and just call Hubby for a ride home.  I weighed the bragging rights of one training session vs. actually being able to finish training and actually running my race, and I decided one day was not nearly the equivalent of the whole shabang.  Hubby was phoned and arrived like a knight in shining minivan, replete with little people to do my bidding. 

So, my shin is fine.  I have rested for two days now and am ready to get back in the game.  Tomorrow, we have Plyometrics on the schedule and I will not be outdone by the one-legged man.  And this weekend, I will once again attempt my longest run ever.  If you'd rather not hear me go on and on about myself and how far I can go, might I suggest doing a little rain dance?