No, Iām not tapering back in my training yet. I havenāt even started, so Iām a long way from tapering. Scared spitless of it, too. By the time I start to taper my training, Iāll be 2 weeks from The Big Day, but to earn that medal, I have to train. A marathon is just the party celebrating the end of all my training. Iām going to run a lot more miles in training than I will on November 23rd.
June was a crazy month in my house. We ramped up to the end-of-quarter at work, to the point where I was at the computer for most of my waking hours. Not solely for work, either, since I had to revise and send back my Sheila contest finalist entry, which I needed to send back before the June 30th deadline because we were going to Ocean City for the weekend, and on the 30th Iād be nose-to-grindstone for work. I also needed to figure out the changes to the ending/Big Black Moment, because the original one just wasnāt making my heart bleed enough.
So now itās July and I have to taper my life back to normal speed, and Iām not sure I remember how. Yesterday I was restless, trying to find something I could grab onto and work on fast and hard, the way Iāve been doing for the last two weeks in June. There was stuff to make up for, like the things I didnāt get done in time, or the things I made mistakes on that needed correction, but come the afternoon when I needed a few minutes to lie down and relax, I couldnāt get my mind to stop whirling. It takes effort to remind myself to just pay attention to my breathing, but it can be done, and itās a little easier than it had been.
The afternoon was pretty busy, too, but I got things done. Unfortunately I got them done to the point that I still hadnāt taken the time to catch up on home stuff like food. I posted on Facebook, āWeāre so out of groceries that I have two choices for snacking: an avocado and water.ā I ate the avocado but it wasnāt satisfying. Since we got back from OC, Iāve been madly jonesing for fruit but I didnāt want it going bad while we were gone so I didnāt restock. Now that itās payday and I have time again, I was keeping myself so busy that again, I wasnāt going and doing the other things that needed doing. The real world stuff like dinner.
Alex dragged me out to Impact because it was his treat for getting all Aās on his 4th quarter report card, and when that was done we went to get a few groceries. It was satisfying to see food in the fridge again but it wasnāt all we needed. I know I can get better food prices at Aldi or Bottom Dollar, but I didnāt plan on going to 3 stores for groceries, so I grabbed what I could at Mega-Lo-Mart (I hate Wally World for so many reasons, but sometimes I just donāt have a choice; no other stores carry bird seed in 40 pound bags–I have a lot of hungry birds to feed–and Mickeyās favorite cat food) and left the rest for today. We grabbed Panera bagels on the way home and that was dinner.
By 6 I was feeling guilty that it appeared I wasnāt making time to work out again. I hadnāt exercised since Saturday morning, when I went for a run before our trip to OC. My plan had been to up my run frequency to 3 or 4 a week for July, since starting next month Iāll be running 5 days a week. I need to get used to the boost in volume. I felt like a slug until 7 when I decided Iād had it; I needed to drop whatever was in front of me, lace up and go. I was going to go to the gym and do 3 miles on the dreadmill, just because it was ridiculously hot/humid, but I remembered I also didnāt have time to refill the gas tank since NJ, so Farm Park, here I come.
Maybe another part of the problem with being crazy busy for so long was how tired I was. More than once I started feeling like hey, itād be nice to have someone give me a hand once in a while, but Iām a single mom. This is what I got. It wasnāt my choice, but itās my situation now, so I have to pull up my big girl panties and get on with it, right? As the song in Evita goes, āBut all the same, I hate it.ā I can do what I need to do but it gets lonely. Even if I still have all this work to do, itād be nice to have someone to come back to, someone to tell me āItās all rightā or āHey, nice job.ā But In the last nearly 3 years, Iāve had to learn to do that for myself. Maybe even longer than that, considering that may have been part of the beginning of the end, when I stopped needing Johnās reassurance that I was someone; I learned to be that for myself. (The end of codependency.)
I was about on mile 3 or 4 when it suddenly hit me, I like being alone. I do value that time of solitude, and I havenāt had it in a while. Iām at work where people can look over my shoulder the entire time; or Iām home, where the boys are ever-present (not to mention Mickey); or Iām at the gym with at least a dozen other people; or Iām driving somewhere on a public road. For a little while last night at the park, I was alone and it was beautiful. I smiled. It felt great. I had music playing, my form was good, my feet didnāt hurt, my knee wasnāt tweaking (the way it did when I tried to fast-walk; suck it, 90 degrees in the shade). I felt healthy and happy, and I was still alone. At the end of my run, the only thing waiting for me was more email; no smiling face, no happy eyes, no gentle hands.
Okay, so THATās depressing me again, but you know what I mean. š In the grand scheme, it was okay. Sure, I hate having to be the only one to get things done. I hate having to make a conscious effort to relax. I hate the pressure and the loneliness, but I like the solitude. Sometimes I do like the solitude. Isnāt it interesting how English has three words—alone, solitude, and lonely—and they mean the same and yet entirely different things?
We have a three day weekend ahead, and after the last couple of weeks, it feels like a vacation. I may be running the July 4th 5k in the rain but after doing a half in the rain, I donāt care. It might even give me a chance to rain-wash my Timex hat, and at last get the mud from my Love Run sneaks. I can do whatever I have to do, because no oneās going to do it for me.
As for those editsā¦uh, yeah; the same still applies. š
Something else on my mind was positive affirmations. Iāve been working on thinking positive and seeing great things ahead in my future. (Bradley Cooper, Iām still looking at you, babe.) The odd thing was that some of the things I see ahead are so fantastic, so amazing, so wonderful, so joyful, that for a moment I was afraid. I mean, seriously, do I deserve all that? Itād be great to get it all but itās scary too, because at some point I see myself thinking, āThis canāt be real. This has to be a fantasy or a dream, and at some point Iāll wake up and go back to the real Orwellian world I live in.ā Again, it takes effort to stop and say, āHell yes I deserve to live in all that wonderful, not just because of the crap Iāve been through already—because in the grand scheme, bad as anything was, I know Iām really and truly blessed—but because I am who I am and I do deserve to have a wonderful life in which every one of my wonderful dreams comes true.ā
So yeah, bring it. I got this.