Lately, on days when I plan to run, this is roughly how the morning looks: get up, family scriptures and prayer, kiss Jeff goodbye, breakfast with Jay and Rose, dishes, brush teeth, personal scripture time, then RUN and shower. This morning routine has been working quite well for me ever since school started and it got cold enough to allow (even encourage) being outside after sunrise. I have been running 4 days per week this fall—sometimes 3, never 5. Some days I wait till Jeff gets home in the evening to run free. Some days I choose the treadmill over the stroller. It all depends on my mood and what works each day, but normally I’m a morning-runner so I can shower and be all ready for The Day.
My morning routine has worked so well for so many consecutive weeks that it was bound to be challenged sooner or later. Today was the day. First, a little more backstory:
This whole post will go down a lot easier if you can just accept this first fact: I love to run. I always have. I started running at age 11, one mile every day with my Dad. I never stopped (unless you count a bout of chronic fatigue and 4 pregnancies). I love everything that running does for me: the calming woosh of steady breathing, the rhythm of feet on pavement (or preferably but rarely, on a trail). Exercise! Endorphins! Going somewhere on my own two feet. Scenery. Waving at our two nicest mailmen. Alone time. Thinking time. Quiet time. These are all things I value and crave in a good run.
My running-values are a whole lot harder to achieve in the cold. I’m not talking regular/Tennessee style-cold, I’m talking 20 degrees and lower-cold. The kind where one set of underarmor with a hat and gloves is not enough. It has gotten bitter cold here in the Yakima Valley during the past 2 weeks. Shiver.
Treadmills are good for getting exercise. That’s about it, if you ask me. I experience NONE of my other run-joys when I’m on a treadmill. Hence my pet name: the dreadmill. That being said, I am glad we have it for those days when the stroller, weather, or number of children (or a combo of all 3) aren’t conducive to a good outdoor run. But it saps me of willpower to climb onto that thing. I watch something Netflixy on the iPad while I run, and that helps a little. But I still laboriously count down the minutes till The End.
Even though I love running, that doesn’t mean it’s not hard to get out and just do it, like Yoda/Spencer W. Kimball/Nike (or whoever it was) said. It is hard to get out and go most days, especially when I have a Jay and a Rose (and a niece and a neph) around. There’s always a reason not to run. But I developed the habit long ago of determinedly running anyways (snow? ice? kids? heat? bring it). That determination serves me well 99.9% of the time. Today happened to be that one-tenth of a percent.
Ok, back to this morning. One glance at the thermometer told me I would gladly choose the treadmill over any version I could envision of bundling up myself and 2 kids against that kind of frost. But like I said, I always drag my feet when it comes to actually running on the treadmill. Plus I didn’t get quite enough sleep last night, so I was feeling lethargic. So, after the aforementioned morning routine, I slowly pulled on my running shorts (ok, I’ll admit to just one more treadmill perk- wearing just shorts and a sportsbra in the winter time, something I only do in the privacy of my own basement). I do know one thing: if I manage to change into my running clothes, I always run. There have only been a tiny handful of exceptions in my whole 16 years of running. So putting on the shorts was a big step.
Next I plodded over to the iPad. What to watch? I have not been in a watch-y mood lately for some reason (why doesn’t Netflix have any worthwhile Christmas movies?). I pondered for a little while but before I figured it out, Steph called and asked to bring Layne over an hour earlier than I expected. So I zipped my jacket over my scanty running costume and grudgingly welcomed the delay of Mr. Dreadmill.
I say grudgingly welcomed because I was somewhat conflicted about not running right away. The sneaky part of me was saying “yay!” and the responsible part was saying “uh-oh.” The power of putting on the running clothes when I don’t feel like running only really works if you go run right away. The magic wears off fast. I doubted my ability to conjure the willpower to change out of my running clothes and then back into them later, so I wore them the whole 3 hours that Layne was over. I felt kind of naked. And 3 little kids with cold hands kept touching my exposed thighs. Burrr!
Like I do most times when I lose my center, I called my Mom. We had a record-long phone call. I’m not prepared to admit its length publicly. Guilty-but-awesome moment (man I seem to have rather a lot of opposing emotions today!). Somehow, my Mom and I can talk about the same subjects—BOOKS, kids, chores, family, church, our lack of technological prowess, and BOOKS every time we chat and it’s always a new conversation. I love it. And her.
It was almost noon before Layne went home. I was starting to get rumbly-lunchy-hungry, and I was still in my short shorts with nothing to watch while I played hamster on the treadmill. So I did something very out of character—I called my husband at work. It was his lunchtime or planning period or something so I knew I would not be wasting class time or making him say “I love you too” in front of 30 high schoolers (even though they howled with joy the time he kissed me goodbye at his classroom door when I visited him once). ANYWAYS, I called him and this is how I sounded, all the while painfully aware of my pathetic unnecessary moaning:
I’m having a dilemma. I was planning on running 3 hours ago but then Layne came over and she doesn’t like it when I ignore her and run on the treadmill for 30 minutes and I don’t like running to the sound of crying so I didn’t run. And I’m still in my running shorts and kids keep touching me with their cold hands and I’m getting COLD and I don’t want to run on the treadmill. I’m hungry! And cold! I don’t want to change my clothes because I need to shower first and I don’t want to shower before I run. But I hate the treadmill and there’s nothing worth watching while I run. And it’s too cold to run outside. I just know that the next time I’m pregnant and unable to move I’ll think back and ask myself why I ever put off running because it is so awesome and I love it so much. But the treadmill! Agggh!
Jeff patiently heard me out and then said “pick something and do it.” I love that man. I hung up, hemmed and almost hawed, and then suddenly hopped in the shower without running. That kind of behavior is reserved for Sundays alone, and here I was boldly showering without sweating first on a WEEKDAY! It was liberating (even though it felt a little like cheating).
As I was stepping out of the shower, I heard a muffled Jay-voice at the bathroom door saying “Mommy, Rose tipped over the Christmas tree. Christmas is very doomed now.”
I got all toasty-steamy warm, put on some fuzzy socks, righted the Christmas tree, and had lunch with Jay and Rose. BOOM.
Some days a run simply isn’t worth the agonizing.
1 comment:
Loved this post. If only I had the dedication to physical activity that you do. I wish dancing was something I could just do on my own. Also love the phone call to Jeff. Husbands are so good at not laughing at our little dilemmas sometimes aren't they? And if it makes you feel better next time you have such a dilemma know that I don't judge you at all for taking one day off of running...cause I take almost all days off : )
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