Saturday and Sunday: Third Boston Training Run

Lately my running compatriots have been hitting the road at 7ish.  This is right up my alley, as I start to feel VERY SORRY for myself when I have to get up before 6:00 AM.  When I am up at these dark thirty hours, I am pitiful and exercise becomes this brutal task master as opposed to something I do recreationally because I enjoy it.  So, I love it that the late sleepers are calling the shots.

This particular Saturday, the baby woke up right before 6:00 AM, I fed him, hooked myself up to the breast pump and hunched depressively in the nursing chair hooked up like a dairy cow and plotting my revenge of selling the dastardly breast pump on ebay.  When will that day come?

Anyway, after feeding the baby, I took my vitamins, mixed my glowing green smoothie in the blender, brewed some green tea and loaded up the car with all sorts of rain gear, as rain was imminent.  Now, when I stepped outside, it was rather balmy.  I felt that even if it rained, it could not be that hard or that cold.  BUT, this is typical of my adopted ignorance about weather situations.  When I got to the park, I left my rain coat in the car, I almost left my jacket in the car, I packed up a package of Power Bar Energy Blast Gel Filled Chews (which I LOVE, by the way.  I sometimes eat them just for kicks.), and congratulated myself on a lovely day to run.  Six miles in however, I was taken down hard by driving rain.  It rained a bit, then rained harder and harder and harder.  The rain was cold, I was soaked to the skin and increasingly bitter.  My shoes filled with water and were weighted and sloshing.  My hands were cold and exposed and by the time I arrived at my car, they were swollen with cold.

Because of my weather ignorance, I had not packed a towel, so when I got in the car, I was just sitting on wet leather.  I had trouble getting the key in the ignition, my jacket and hat off, all the things that require the dexterity of your fingers.  I shivered my way home with about 12 miles under my belt.

Of course, when I walked in the door, everything was hitting the fan.  The baby was wailing and refusing to take a bottle, one of my three year old's socks had gotten sucked into the filter of the dryer and shorted it out, my three year old was naked, and the phone was ringing.  SO, I shimmied out of wet clothes into a bathrobe, nursed the baby, climbed into the shower and crossed my fingers that my husband would be able to do something about the dryer situation.

After realizing that my husband was in a serious snit about the dryer and that it was too rainy to play outside, I pulled myself together and loaded everyone up and hit the YMCA.  I took a Yoga/ Pilates fusion class and let my older son play in the play area and my younger son sleep in the nursery.  It was good times.

We had Indian food for dinner and I got in bed early in hopes of having a great night's sleep, but it was not to be.  My older son woke up twice in the night, my three month old woke up at 5:00 AM and then I could not go back to sleep.  I finally just gave up, started the coffee and resigned myself to the type of day that a limited amount of sleep grants you.  I grumpily toted my older son to church.  I grumpily ate all the frosting off a cupcake, I grumpily loaded up the car and went to swim class.  It was all grumpiness from my quarter.

At swim, I got in about 2500 meters.  Swimming again tomorrow and hoping the baby sleeps through the night.

Bleh