I have a sneaking suspicion this is going to be an interesting week.
First off, I screwed up one of my giveaways and closed it early because I was all confused and had written the closing date down incorrectly in my planner. Yay, me. Not really since I chose a winner and I’m not about to reopen comments and take the prize from her.
I’m sincerely sorry to all of you who tried to enter.
My in-laws have both of my kids for this week.
What you have to understand is the longest I’ve ever been away from Cara is when Tucker, Ollie and I went to BlogHer last year; we left Cara with Mom. That didn’t go so well.
The longest I’ve ever been away from Oliver is…well…never.
Apparently they’re doing just fine and I’m relieved for that. I want them to have a good time. I want it to be as unstressful as is possible for both the kids and my in-laws. If I wasn’t sitting in Barnes and Noble right now sipping my coffee and writing this and it was after five, I’d raise a glass to everyone involved. Instead, I’ll raise my Venti Caramel Macchiato.
When the kids left on Sunday, I had a tentative plan in mind for the coming week:
- sleep until 9am
- get up
- maybe shower
- get caught up on work
- write a couple of thousand words on this confounded book I’m working on
- wait for Tucker to get home
- do something we wouldn’t have done with the kids
- go to bed late
I had a VERY busy and stressful week planned.
Instead, Tucker changed my well laid out plans for me with the purchase of some compression tight things. If you don’t know, compression tight things look a bit like bicycle shorts but they keep your muscles from doing wonky things.
They are the sexy. Really. OK. They’re not sexy on me at all but maybe they will be in a few months. That’s the plan anyway.
I have this habit of not sticking to this whole fitness thing.
I found a journal I kept when I was nine. I had started it on New Year’s Day with a list of ten resolutions. Fairly chaste things were enumerated and then at the very bottom of the list was: lose ten pounds.
How pathetic is that?
A nine year old who was worried enough about her weight she felt the need to write that crap down on a list of New Year’s resolutions. The point is I’ve always been resolving to do this. I’ve tried the 30 Day Shred and I’ve tried the whole walking thing. I’ve tried pills. I’ve tried diets.
You name it, I’ve tried it.
I’m that person. Woot. Not really.
This morning, I woke at 5am with Tucker’s nose against my nose. It was still dark outside. I pulled on those damned compression short things, strapped my boobs into this torture device thing called a sports bra and off we went through the wet grass which soaked my big toes. Three minutes of walking followed by 60 seconds of running/jogging. By the first section of jogging, a couple of my toes had gone numb. By the time it was all said and done, I could only feel the left side of my right heel.
That was special. And by special I mean I felt like I had a cinder block attached to my right ankle instead of a foot. But we made it. I walked/jogged just about mile. And I’m the girl who’s never run a mile in her entire life. I’m not sore yet – I expect that to come tomorrow.
And you know? I didn’t really hate it. I didn’t love it but I didn’t hate it. That’s something, right?
My only problem [and it’s a big one] is I don’t think I have the intestinal fortitude to do this on my own. I’m just not disciplined enough to keep it up. I noticed I’m kind of like a racehorse that needs a pacer next to it otherwise it gets bored with the whole running thing. Competition is what they like/need. I guess I’m like a big boobed racehorse.
Or something.
Now the issue isn’t if I can jog but if we can figure out someway for me to do this when the kids get back. I don’t have a jogging stroller and I like to run in the morning. I could go at 5 like I did this time but I must admit I’m a bit nervous about running by myself – bears and the hoard of man eating bunnies that frequent the trail and all that.
Time will tell. Not only will it tell me if I’ll actually keep at this but if I’ll grow to like it. I’m not looking for love her. Just a mild fondness.
