The Morning Snooze

I have been pretty diligent about training in the early morning hours.  It is the only time I am guaranteed a workout.  My work days are not giving me much wiggle room for training.  And by the time Dave gets home at night, which is usually around 6:30 but sometimes much later depending on his soccer schedule, everyone is pretty tired and hungry and the nighttime routines need to begin.  So, it is morning or bust.

This morning was a bust.  I hit snooze for an hour.  I turned on my phone, saw the temps had dropped to 30, and closed my eyes again.  I bargained with myself that I could just do something today when I caught a break, even though I have a really crazy work day with no room for a break.  I ignored the dogs who were trying to get me up.  I got up and made a cup of coffee and then came right back to bed for some snuggle time.  I searched on pinterest for a holiday snack to take to Isla's class tomorrow that was healthy-ish and wouldn't take me forever.  (BTW- my least favorite thing about parenting is the damn school snacks, as well as fixing lunch.  I have ZERO creativity and I am trying to change that for Isla's sake, because I don't want to be that mom that doesn't care.  The kids KNOW me.  They know I am Isla's mom.  So, I actually do reflect on her now.  I am not seeking perfection in the creative mom department, but I do think she deserves some effort).

So no running or swimming this morning.  I decided I needed to just rest and not even worry about it.  What is one day off a week?  Why can't I take that without guilt?  It is the extra 10 pounds I am carrying?  (YES!)  It is the fact that Boston is now 18 weeks away and I am running 10 miles a week?   (YESSSS!!!!) I didn't think there was a chance I would run it, but now I probably will and I feel screwed.

I think throughout parenthood I have have been trying to find my reason "why" with sport.  I am not an exerciser.  I don't diet.  I have always just trained when I wanted to accomplish something.  So there is no satisfaction for me in just working out.  I need a goal.  I need a vision.  I need sports and games.  It needs to speak to me.  When I did the marathon this fall, that was the first time in a while I felt that I had really set a goal worth achieving, and I committed and executed.  But, now I need a new one.  I went to yoga for the first time last night since I had Isla.  (what?  2.5 years???) And she challenged me to think on what brought me to this place in my athletic life and why I am pursing athletics.  And for the first time in 37 years I don't think I had an answer.  My mind was just completely blank.  So maybe that is why I am in bed this morning....I don't have a "why" for getting up this morning thanks to my yoga class last night.

A little Los Locos Yoga night.  They lured me in with promised of green juices and local beer.  Got to the end of class, and only juice.  Where is the beer?????  Duped. Good times.  

(but I DID do my first back bend last night post baby.  That is actually a big deal given the complete crap health of my spine.  I honestly could not do any sort of back bend the past 2 years.  Oh, and I have been swimming pain free for 2 weeks.  Finally.  So, there IS that....)

I am honestly partly blaming this week and my existential crisis on Scott Weiland's passing.  I have no clue why I felt so sad about it, but I did.  I have been wallowing in STP albums all week.  I am listening to them cover to cover on runs.  I mean, I have been completely sad and obsessed.  I sent this heartfelt text to Dave at work the other day that we need to go see some more bands and live music...life is passing me by and I will regret all of the great bands I never took the time to go see.  And I swear I heard a drumroll and decided Scott Weiland's death was catapulting me into a mid-life crisis.  Because the bands of my youth are dying out, I never go see live music anymore, and I am getting much closer to 40.  Yup, mid-life crisis.

Okay.  Reindeer snacks found.  Blog time regained.  Mom sanity returned.  Training mojo revived.  (although I still need a lightening bolt to strike me with a worthy vision and goal).  2-year-old up and snuggling me.

And now that my hour of alone time that didn't involve an increase in heart rate is over, I do feel a bit better. I hate to take away from my training time, but sometimes I just need life to slow down for a minute.  I promise to swim tomorrow morning :)