Wild time

I'm not sure where I got the idea that doing things with my child would be fun. My grandma would say that it's because I watched too many soap operas as a teenager. I would like to argue that I'm a hopeless optimist ... even though I know that's a crack of bull.

Last night, Mark and Miles picked me up from work so that we could head to the Fort Wayne Children’s Zoo’s annual Zooau. The postcard advertised picnic fare, games, free rides and family fun.

Read: It advertised a meal that I did not have to cook and entertainment for my child that did not involve Elmo and his goldfish and his crayon.

The picnic fare turned out to be hot dogs and chips, which is great for families with children older than 2 but how the heck am I supposed to give Miles a bag of chips. Seriously.

My child did manage to take down the hot dog and part of his bun. He might have been holding out. Seeing as he is the brightest child this side of the Mississippi, he was able to read that we had frozen treat tickets.

Push-Ups are delicious. Because I said so.

After destroying Miles’ faith in humanity by taking away said deliciousness, we tried to navigate our way through the zoo to the log ride. Mark has been wanting to take our child on this ride since we got the membership and it was free. Free trumps rational thought when taking a tired, more than likely hungry baby on a ride that requires him to sit still.

The picture says it all. I’m tired, he’s irritated and we’re both wondering when the damn thing will end.

I praised grilled cheesus when it was over only to be frustrated by the throngs of folks wandering around like zombies in search of the nearest relief. Determined-to-leave moms be damned! We want misters!

As we walked to the car, I lamented to Mark that the Zooau was supposed to be this great thing we did as a family. It was supposed to be fun. We were supposed to be making memories. Instead, I was daring my husband to run over misguided youths with the stroller and kick people who stepped in our way. I wanted to toss the child in the trunk and see whether my Mazda lived up to the Zoom-Zoom hype.

I, of course, would never do the latter. Safety all the way. It is possible that I might “accidentally” clip a 10-year-old with a stroller if he was walking unaware around the zoo as he played with a PSP.

Notes for next year:

Only go to the Zooau if it is not 900 degrees.

Go at a weird time when there will be less people.

Bring actual sustenance, such as carrot sticks, fruit and Diet Coke.

Ride the ride first before anyone gets cranky.

Do not let apprehensive child touch blow-up hockey mascot as it will result in uncontrollable screaming.

Give the tickets (and the child) to the grandparents and meet girlfriends for margaritas.

Editor’s note: I guess it didn’t help my attitude toward people that I was suffering from painful bloat, which I’m attributing to an overpriced nutrition bar I purchased at the coffee shop in the morning. Shakelee’s Cinch, my stomach does not like you.

Marathon Monday: Interrupt this schedule

I am training for the Columbus Marathon and following the "Train Like A Mother" finish it plan. These posts document my training. 

This week, in running:

Monday: 3 miles + 8 strides (4.04 miles total)
Tuesday: 7 miles, negative split
Thursday: 6 miles, treadmill
Sunday: 9.23 miles

◊ ◊ ◊

Sunday mornings have been synonymous with long runs since I began training for any distance. If it was the first day of the week, or the seventh depending on how you look at, and I had just gotten out of bed, it would be a sure bet that I was prepping for my long run.

This week, though, was a little different. I was in Cincinnati with Miles, visiting friends and family; Mark stayed at home and enjoyed some well-earned child-free hours. As I was solo, though, getting in a long run would be tricky if near impossible and I didn't want to stress about getting it in. So I made the ill-fated decision to do it Sunday night.

I set off about 6:30 p.m., more than ready for some quiet even if it meant running 14 miles. I felt prepared, eating a light but carb-filled dinner and having focused on hydrating all day. However, I felt thirsty and hot almost immediately, and my legs were tired from Saturday's failed BODYPUMP taping and 7 hours in the car over the course of the weekend.

Without getting overly detailed, here's how the run went down and downhill quickly. I was tired by mile 2. I was already cutting the run short by mile 3. Mile 4, my intestines were churning. Mile 4.5, I thought I was going to throw up. Mile 4.75, I re-routed and wondered where I could stop off at to call Mark to come pick me up. Mile 5, I started crying. Mile 5.25 , I decided to not run the Columbus Marathon and drop down to the half.

Obviously, there might be some exaggeration in those markers but there it is not possible to over state my frustration with training. I am doing my best to get in the weekday workouts and am finding some success. My long runs, though, have been less than stellar and less than called for. I was supposed to run 12 in Colorado but ran 11. I ran 12 the next week but struggled. My 13-mile run last week was 12.1 and this week's 14-mile run was 9.

There is no doubt in my mind that the heat is playing a large role in my performance but I have seriously began to question whether I have a marathon in me and whether I even care if there is one in me. This training is no joke - it dominates my life and the lives of those around me and for a reason I'm not so sure of. Am I doing it because I want to? Am I doing it because I promised myself I would? Because I think it's the next step? Because I've committed to it so publicly?

I struggled to find that reason as I walked through the door defeated and teary. When Mark asked how it went, I told him that I was not running the marathon. It was decided. My husband, always finding the right words (except when I ask him if my bare abdomen running embarrasses him), told me that he thinks I'm awesome no matter what I do. He instructed to get out of my clothes, get something to drink and take a bath.

I came downstairs not a new one but a more centered one and picked up my laptop. There was a comment from a Daily Mile pal saying that she had similar thoughts during a marathon and not to give up. Funny how one person, one I don't even feel like I know, can change things.

I opened a new tab in Google Chrome and found myself typing in a familiar web address - halhigdon.com. I clicked on the tab for the Novice 2 marathon plan, and looked at the grid. The succession of long runs was almost identical to what I have done recently - 11-12-9. The next weeks are 14 and 15. His plan calls for just four days of week, with the longest midweek run at 8 miles. There is pace work but it's limited to one day a week.

Mr. Higdon got me thinking. Maybe the problem isn't with me and maybe the problem isn't "Train Like a Mother." Maybe it's the two of us together. It's quite possible that I'm struggling because I picked a plan that is just above my ability.

I do like parts of the #TLAM plan, especially the quality workouts, and I hate to abandon it. I stayed up late (for me) last night working to marry Dimity, Sara and Hal to come up with a plan that leaves me in a good spot but still challenges me. It might work. It might not.

Who knows.

What I do know is that I'm not giving up. Not yet.