Friday: Finding My Pace

It’s the end of my second week of work. I just got to the train station, missing a train.

I have called and ordered pizza to be delivered 20 minutes after I arrive home. So dinner is taken care of.

I’m tired. I won’t lie. Between commuting and the actual workday, I’m gone for 11 hours a day. Add to that an hour in the morning to run or work out. I ran the 7 miles to work one day this week, and the next day I was out the door by six a.m. to run hills for an hour before leaving for work. I make dinner as soon as I walk in the door, and then spend some time with the kids, get them to bed, clean up the kitchen, and make lunches.

Somehow by then it is 10 PM or later. Friends have advised me to make dinners the night before, but I’m not quite there yet.

My husband, meanwhile, has taken over the entire morning routine, from breakfast to finding the right socks (kids can be picky about these things!) to drop off. I’ve also done some laundry but not all of it, yet somehow clean laundry keeps appearing in the baskets thanks to him. And he is doing lunches and kitchen cleaning, too. The dishes are endless.

He also, one evening, very kindly took apart my GPS running watch and soldered the wires that untaped and untwisted themselves after I’d replaced the battery recently.

Once again I can track my pace and mileage.

I’m dictating this post on a crowded train, because by the time the kids get to bed and I have some quiet time with my laptop tonight, I will be ready to fall asleep wherever I am.  I nearly fell asleep in the middle of my workout this morning, on my mat to do crunches in the cul-de-sac. I hadn’t slept well, and it was much, much colder than I’d expected outside, and all I wanted was to have hot soup and go to sleep.

I should’ve skipped this morning’s workout. I showered and got on the train afterwards, so tired that I missed my stop by two stops.

Tomorrow will be a quiet family day, and we will catch up on chores. I’ll return the stack of overdue library books that seems to stare at me accusingly every time I cross the living room.

Sunday I’m running a half marathon, with a extra 4-mile run with some friends before the race to make sure we hit our training mileage. I’m not racing the race, just running it. It is rumored to be a hilly course with bitter-cold winds, and it might be snowing lightly.

The Boston Marathon is just over a month away. I think I’m ready. I will be by then, at least. I’m not running fast these days, but I’m feeling pretty strong.

The pace at work, on the other hand, is breathtaking, and that’s where I need to pick up speed right now. I also need to be working evenings, to some degree, something I can’t quite seem to fit in just yet.

I will. But for now I look forward to a day off and some time to get ahead on dinner prep.

The train is pulling into my stop. A half-mile walk and I’ll be home, putting away the laptop and shucking off my work clothes and relaxing with my family.

I can’t wait.



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