Running with Child

Lately I have been mentally running around with my head cut off. I have a billion things on my to-do list, but for some reason only a fraction of them get finished. Obviously, updating my blog is something that doesn’t seem to make the cut. Other things like eyebrow plucking, hair brushing, ironing, and chewing up food seem to miss the cut every once in awhile as well. As does running. It wouldn’t be a bad thing, except I am training for a race -- a race that is 13.1 miles.

For some crazy reason I thought that since we had a treadmill I would be all trained and ready for the mini marathon, no problem. And, of course, when it got warmer I would be able to throw the baby in the jogging stroller and run my 10 miles through the park and we would all live happily ever after. Yeah, right.

Back in the olden days, I used to run through the scenic Eagle Creek Park with Laurin and Bermes. We laughed, we cried, we tra-la-laed with nature. I had all the time in the world to just run and run and run to my heart’s content. The rest of my time was spent doing various things like counting the hairs on my legs, teaching Ozzie Spanish, or simply staring at the wall thinking about all of the extra time I had. I slept 18 hours a night, always slept in, and vacationed every month in exotic lands.

Okay, maybe I am exaggerating ...

But, now, my free time is spent much differently. I don’t really have that much of it, and frankly, I would like to be sitting on my ass, shoving cheese cubes in my mouth. Running doesn’t really seem too appealing to me – it doesn’t involve any ass sitting or cheese of any kind. And, while a HUGE bonus is being able to watch TV while I run, the atmosphere is one to be desired. I spend my time running inside next to a window, that, when it is open offers a nice breeze, but sometimes blows in the smell of those wild onions in our yard. And, it can be quite dangerous with my attention partly on the TV and partly on the baby monitor, ready to jump off at any small shriek.

And, we have yet to take the baby and the jogging stroller out. A few weeks ago we had planned to take the baby to the park, and had put together the stroller (a.k.a. The Ultimeate Pimped Out Baby Vehicle), packed the bags, and dressed the baby in a little jogging suit. I was so determined to do this that I almost dragged Husband and Baby out in torrential downpours and lightning strikes. It had taken so much work to just get the thing in our car, I didn’t want to waste it! But, the voice of reason (Jake) kicked in and I decided that today would not be a good day for our child to die by lightning.

So, back to the point of the story ...

I only have 18 more days to prepare my body for the mini. I am so worried about this race, that I have nightmares about it. Seriously. The logical side of my brain is saying things like, “you can just walk when you get tired,” and “don’t worry, Jake won’t leave you in the middle of all of those people.” But, the irrational side of my brain is saying, “You are going to die a slow death at mile 8, by yourself, with a fat girl wedgie, and chaffing marks between your legs.”

I am so scared that Jake is going to take off and leave me in the middle of the race. Maybe because I totally left him in 2003 after about, oh, the first 20 seconds of the race. Also, maybe because he is in such good shape and running on the treadmill at record speeds. I look over at his svelte body, bouncing along, and compare it to my pendulous belly hanging over my running shorts, as I clomp along on the treadmill. I have to turn the volume on the TV up to 25 must to hear it over my clomps. I have never been this out of shape in my entire life (although, I cannot attest to my physical fitness around 7 months of age, but I can imagine that I had more muscle tone in my abs) and, I have never been so unprepared for something. I didn’t sign up for this thing thinking I was going to be anywhere near where I was before, but at least I thought I would be keeping up with the training.


Something’s gotta give in my life now that I have a baby, and I’ll be damned if it’s watching my reality TV.