Apr
2
I ran 19 miles yesterday. NIIINETEEEEN. MIIIIIILES. I wish I had something uplifting to say about that, like how empowered I felt at the end or how refreshing it was to be alone with my thoughts for so long and how I experienced many personal revelations as a result, but . . . no. It was exactly as hideous as it sounds, except maybe for the part where it rained like hell for twenty minutes because that was a little bit worse.
There are many things to hate about running that far but I think the part that’s even harder than the physical torment is the mental dreariness. Audiobooks help a little bit, but the vast majority of my brain is dedicated, the entire time, to broadcasting how much what I’m doing sucks and how good it would feel to stop and walk and maybe call a fucking cab, so I have to engage in this epic 3.5+ hour battle of telling myself to just keep going and while I do feel there’s a lot of benefit that comes from toughing out a hard situation by mile 16 or so it all just seems like INSANITY.
Plus, it was so lonely and desolate on the trail yesterday I felt about one eye-twitch away from drawing a face on my shoe and naming it Wilson. I’m not too proud to tell you I chased these geese, shouting “Don’t leave me! Don’t LEEAAAVE MEEEE!”
Never say never, I guess, but I can’t imagine doing this kind of training again. One and done is my current marathon motto, if I make it to May’s race in one piece. Which isn’t necessarily a sure bet, judging by how I had to start the day by snorting eight rails of ground-up Advil.
In completely unrelated topics, here is a video of my child, and a mesmerizing, if brief, background vocal performance of “The Hustle”.
Mar
31
We forgot about Earth Hour on Saturday night—well, technically I knew about it but JB and I were out watching a sustainably-harvested organic movie, Hot Tub Time Machine, so it’s not like we weren’t doing our part—but we did get all post-apocalyptic on Sunday and cooked an entire meal in the fireplace. It consisted of two gourmet courses, hot dogs and marshmallows, with a tangy mustard sorbet as a palate cleanser (which is to say I accidentally doused myself with a bunch of disgusting French’s pee while upending the bottle).
It was so much fun, and the boys loved it, even though Dylan would only eat the bun and Riley managed to coat every inch of his body with sticky melted marshmallow and then promptly got stuck to a sofa cushion.
There are some less-than-quality times when the hours crawl by too slowly and I’m counting down (and counting to 10) until bedtime and we use the TV as a Hail Mary, but I think (hope?) there are many more hotdog-in-the-fireplace times when we’re all just . . . truly enjoying each other’s company. It seems like a newish sort of dynamic, now that Dylan’s old enough to actively participate and hold up his weird little end of the conversation. Like we’re not just two flailing adults trying to keep small children alive, we’re a foursome.
It feels more important than ever to have dinner together as often as possible, no matter how chaotic and messy and short-lived it is. It’s the one time during the week when we can all sit down and eat a meal as a family, and it rarely happens because I can’t get home soon enough.
Almost every day, JB picks the boys up from school. He’s the one that greets them, that drives them home, that talks to them about their day. He takes care of their meals. By the time I get home, they’ve been fed and they’re happy, but I wasn’t there for it.
I can’t adjust my hours and I can’t work from home. I can’t move my workplace closer to me or change where I live. Right now, it is what it is: I have to work, I have attendance requirements I have to meet (whether I have sick kids or not), I have a long traffic-choked commute.
Today there’s a White House forum on workplace flexibility, and while I can’t watch it live I hope I have the chance to learn what was discussed because this is an issue that means a lot to me. I don’t know what the answers are, and maybe there are none, maybe it’s enough for now that people are asking the questions.
I know I’ve talked about this before, the commute thing, the coming home late thing, and yet everything’s stayed the same. For years. Here is what I’m committing to in this little space of mine: I’m going to change this crappy situation.
I want to be home in time for dinner.
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