After much (not always so careful) consideration, I’ve decided not to run my planned half marathon this weekend. I injured my knee, and my training has been truncated, but I’ve been running, so I told myself if I could run 15 km before the race I would be okay. That didn’t happen, and after briefly considering just pushing through (10k is easy! What’s another 10k?!), the reality of training with a toddler has caught up with me. It’s not that one can’t train for a race with a toddler, it’s just that Hubby works long hours, we don’t do daycare, and I just don’t train as well in the evening (when I get to go out running), so I just can’t plan to get the training done in 12 weeks. Especially when 2 of those weeks were spent in another country, and 4 of those weeks were my first 4 weeks back in wedding land which really screws with long runs on weekends.
I am bummed. Capital B Bummed. Rock in my stomach, deep, deep sorrow Bummed.
Hubby has promised not to be disappointed in me, and I’m trying not to be too hard on myself. Cause I do that. I still haven’t really forgiven myself for the whole home-birth-turning-into-40-hours-of-labour-ending-in-a-c-section thing. No, instead of wallowing, I’m diving into another bag of chips (ha!) and I’m signing up for a half marathon in May and a marathon next fall, while the entrance fees are still cheap.
Oh, and I’m going out for a run.
(Pics by Ms. Evans from my 10k in May. Look how tiny my baby was!)
This was Samson’s first time without Mommy or Daddy. He was fine with Babcia (my mom) and Dziadek (my dad) and Auntie Calla (my boss) until he saw me again. Saddest face ever!