Run for Your Life

I announced to the kids on Monday morning, "Daddy's going to be in London for a couple of days. It's going to be just us."

Doodles replied, with eyes open wide, "You're not going to be able to run!"

I choose to believe that, when he said this, he meant, "Mom, I'm concerned for your health and well being because I know that running makes you strong" and not, "Ack, Mom, when you don't get to run, you're a bitch on wheels!" Both statements, I fear, are equally accurate.

I've been playing with my running routine, as last week a friend introduced me to Walden Pond. I mean, I knew it was there. I pass by it all the time. But I had never deigned to stop and swim. So last Friday at 5 a.m., she picked me up and we headed over. It was an unbelievably foggy day--we met with a friend who swims there every week and even she got lost in the middle of the pond--but the swimming was phenomenal. I'm a strong swimmer, but I've never loved doing it because, let's face it, swimming back and forth, back and forth, back and forth... in a pool is about one of the most mind-numbing activities there is. It's about equivalent of running on a treadmill (blah!!). But swimming in Walden Pond, that's swimming! We were out an hour and a half that morning and then went back for another hour on Sunday. I could have easily and happily swam for twice as long. I was completely sore after, in a good way, and it was such a soothing way to workout. I think that next summer I'm going to add a triathlon into my summer racing schedule.

Speaking of racing schedules, I've been following a training program pretty hard core and I'm having a hard time getting to speed. I can't decide if it's the extra pounds or the old age, but my motor is just not revving. I have two half marathons--the BAA in October and the Maine Coast in November--and I'd like to PR at one of them (I think the BAA is my best bet). The way things are going, I'm not sure it's going to be doable.

Last week I ran 31 miles, including intervals and tempo runs. For the tempo run, I was supposed to run five miles at an 8:09 pace, but I couldn't get my body moving faster than 8:20. And then the intervals. I really despise interval running. Every Monday night I think, "Ugh, gotta go to bed early so I can do intervals tomorrow." Every Tuesday morning I drag myself to the track. This week I had a sudden revelation as I was dying my way through my interval of 1 mile-400 rest-2 miles-800 rest-2 x 800 that I didn't actually have to do intervals. No one was making me. It made me feel both better and worse to realize that only I was inflicting this pain on myself. And yet I keep doing it. Can't help myself.

This week, with Adam gone, I'm deliberately taking it slow. The swim on Sunday. Yesterday, I ran after dropping Pie off at camp for five miles, and was so miserable in the 85 degree heat (today is day three of above 90 degree weather here) that I decided to take another rest day today. Tomorrow night I have a four-mile race, an hour swim on Friday, and a shorter long run on Saturday (I'll probably stick to eight or ten miles). A nice, easy slow week meant to recharge the body.

And you know what else a slow week means? Bitch on wheels. Poor kids. Next week I'll be running regularly again. And they can go back to having a (more or less) happy mom. In the meantime, hide.