Tonight, Leland and I are going for a four-mile run. My brother does this every damned day (he has stopped biking and taken up running, don’t ask me why), but I don’t. I did go on one other four-mile run this summer, a grueling trek up a long hill with my friend Megan, and I’m pretty sure my heart almost exploded. And poor Buster. I didn’t think I would be able to get him into the car!
But anyhow, I’m now training for a 10k. Tony and his mom, aunt, and cousins do the bridge run every year, and this year I’m joining them. Sure, I could walk the 6.4 miles, but what fun is that? Besides, I guarantee I would have to pee before the end, so if I run, I’ll get there faster. Also, I like a challenge.
But on the other hand…
The last time I ran a race this distance was the last time I ever ran a race. Come to think of it, it was also the first time I ever ran a race. And I distinctly remember saying that I would never, ever do it again. So much for that. Running long distances screws with my digestive system (I’ll let you imagine the gruesome details there). Also, it takes a lot of time. Tonight, Leland and I will devote an hour to running. Next week, we’ll go farther, and the week after, farther still. Time away from my family, time away from dinner, time away from other fun stuff.
It’s probably worth it. I’ll feel a sense of accomplishment if I meet my goal of no walking. Maybe I’ll lose those 5 lbs that have been plaguing me for months. Or, if I don’t lose weight, at least I won’t gain it as I stuff my face with goodies; seriously, I have had the biggest sweet tooth lately. Perhaps it’s my body hunkering down for winter or something.
It’s our anniversary on Friday. Five years. Five Years! We’re planning a trip down to the greater Seattle-Metropolitan area for a romantic meal at a national chain restaurant. Well, it’s not so unglamorous as Applebee’s… no, we are going to The Melting Pot because I love fondue. And I’ve never been there. And have you seen their menu? Divine. Tony, I love you like food. But better, and more. But I still want food.
This little break will shepherd in a weekend of hard work on the backyard and a very busy week next week. The backyard is thisclose to being done, but then, I’ve been saying that for awhile. You see, we are busier than most folks, I think. Tony has started his master’s program (in taxation, clearly the world’s most fascinating subject) and he still sits on the Habitat for Humanity board and executive committee, whilst I try to keep house (not so easy when your backyard is comprised of dirt and more dirt), keep up the shopping and the laundry and the meals and the rest of the household chores, sit on the Rotary Board, co-chair the Rotary Live Auction, and run my own business (thankfully, Leland does the brunt of that). We don’t have time to finish the backyard. We need to get six more yards of topsoil before we can roll sod, and then we have to figure out how to roll sod over the whole backyard in one day! I am amazed at our neighbor, who had time to completely rebuild the fence between our two properties over the course of one week (we paid for the materials, he did all the work. All of it). That kind of project would take us two months.
Thankfully, as an anniversary gift, we decided to buy ourselves a full day of Merry Maids service. As soon as there is grass in that backyard, someone else is going to come in and clean up all the dirt in my house. Thank God.
That kid. That beautiful, energetic, crazy kid. Charles is all over the place, wildly enjoying his 22nd month, which makes me think, holy shit, he’s almost TWO. Time flies when you’re having fun. Or are sleep-deprived, a state with which Tony and I are intimately familiar.
Charles has begun a rather annoying bedtime routine wherein he must be tucked in just so in order to sleep. As with most people, his sleeping is pretty light for the first little while after the lights go off as his little brain winds down. So if the blanket gets messed up? Bam! We’re back to the beginning of the routine, with Charles standing in his crib calmly but insistently asking on of us to “Da?” (Charles speak for “come tuck me in again, please). This routine can take a full 30 minutes, but he’s not crying, so we just deal with it. It makes me think that we are headed towards a toddler bed pretty quick because then we’d have the ability to really tuck his blankets in. Although, after typing that, I realize that there isn’t much stopping me from getting some larger blankets and tucking them under his crib mattress, too.
He’s waking up early again, too. We bring him to our bed, where he flails or settles, apparently depending on the position of Venus and the tide level. The dog gets up around 4 to go outside.
Is it too much to ask for a full, straight seven or eight hours? Vacation spoiled me.
I’m restless. I need new book recommendations (again). I need to start working on Christmas gifts. I need to get winter clothes out of their storage bins. I need to go to the gym.
I want to do more cooking. More gourmet cooking, instead of the kind that involves looking in the refrigerator, hastily cobbling together ingredients to make a passable meal, and getting it on the table before Charles breaks out in bleeding pustules and then dies of starvation (kid is dramatic, yo). I have hundreds of recipes I want to try, but I need more time, MORE TIIIIIMMMEEE!!!! Perhaps I should get up at four am with Buster?
Also, O.M.G., Halloween is right around the corner. What are you going to be? What should I be? What should Charles be? I am now considering all ideas.