I got home from school in a great mood yesterday. It was a beautiful sunset, in a way that cannot be replicated outside of the PNW. I was excited to bake my spaghetti squash and squeeze in a run while it was in the oven.
Before I managed to get the squash cut and in the oven I was reconnecting with my husband. We’ve both had usually busy schedules and we really haven’t been anything more than ships passing in the night. I’m not using ‘reconnecting’ as any type of euphemism; I haven’t had a real conversation with the man in over a week. Then suddenly it was 11:30 and I hadn’t eaten or run.
Hubs has a coworker that is on vacation, so he needed to go in to work this morning (on his day off) to take care of a few things and ended up staying for 5 hours. So my morning run became nonexistent. I spent the day trying to finish up last minute wedding details.
I found myself with an intense headache snapping at everyone and saying some really uncharitable things about my brother (never mind that my mom was saying the same things about him and she actually birthed the man-cub). He must have sensed my mood from across town because he called me to say that he really appreciated that I put together his wedding and that he wouldn’t have been able to do it without me. Darn tootin’, kid. That phone call literally stopped me in my tracks and forced me to really think about why I was so frustrated.
Can you guess why? Yeah, I missed my run. There’s that mental click. I’m frustrated that I don’t really have enough time to run tonight because then I just add more to my to-do list tomorrow. As I stated a couple of days ago, running is not a choice. Running wins. I can still get everything done in plenty of time. There will be extra help tomorrow anyway.
You know what else? I actually have a craving to run a speed workout. Being that the closest track requires a drive, I’m going to do block sprints. And I’m going to go until it’s too dark to see. Then I’ll bake that cake.