Yep, that’s how I would describe the past week here at the house. The kids and I have been cooped up. Quarantined. Secluded. Cut off. You get the idea, right? And you know how I do when forced inside, right? Cabin fever and I just do not mix. Needless to say, it has been a long week.
The ten miler was tough but I got it done. Last night our son was up from midnight to 2 am, then again every hour after that – with a horrible cough. The poor kid chokes on mucus, attempts to spit it up, then is terrified about the whole process and screams for a few minutes, freaking himself out the entire time. I feel awful for him and I’m praying that it passes quickly. Around 3 this morning I had completely written off the run; no way I was going to have the energy for this.
I was right. I didn’t have the energy. Hell, I didn’t even have coffee before the run. I choked down some hot cereal, fed the baby and begrudgingly went out the door. Into the 20 degree weather, wind whipping and rain pouring. Nice. A mile into the run, I was already pissed – at the way the week has gone, at the weather; you name it, I was just mad. But, as runners know, the miles ticked by and slowly the transformation happened. The wind stopped, the rain let up a little, my shoulders relaxed, and for the first time ever, I even called my mom during my run. I walked through the front door, ecstatic [but freezing], met by our daughter wearing her running outfit. In the end, I’m glad I pushed through – both mentally and physically. It was definitely the kind of run that I feel validated my passion for running.