First the good stuff.
Yesterday I was determined to run. It was so gorgeous by the afternoon--sunny & 70. Around 4:15 I finally got around to changing into my running clothes, only to discover I'd forgotten my socks. I hate it when that happens! After a brief thought of running without them, I quickly came to my senses & drove the short mile to my local running store. Got a pair of Balega socks & stocked up on Gu, and I was hitting the pavement by 4:40. I parked at Luke's day care & figured I run 3 miles & be back with just enough time to pick him up around 5:20.
I ran 3, and they felt great. My pace is still not where I want it to be, but that's OK. The extra 10 pounds really slow me down. My avg m/m was 11:08, which I will take at this stage of the game.
And I felt freaking amazing afterwards (and during). Very at peace. Like everything is going to be okay. This, my friends, is the wonder of running. And endorphins.
I had a busy night--Mark's back in school after his spring break so it's just me with the kids on Mon, Tues, & Wed--but it was manageable. I ate well all day, including a healthy low carb dinner. Kiddos were in bed when they should be. I made a cup of hot tea and got in bed at 9:00, and by 9:15 I was falling asleep.
The plan was to get to sleep early & wake up at 5 a.m. and do 30 Day Shred. I figured I would have plenty of sleep & I am figuring out that I've got to add morning exercise to my day or I'm just not going to get the muscles I want so badly for our trip in June to St John.
But, then, of course, the shit hit the fan & my plans imploded.
Mark got in bed around 11:30, turned on the TV, and then promptly started tossing, turning, shivering, & snoring. He must be coming down with something because he couldn't get warm. And he couldn't stay still & I couldn't fall back to sleep. So off to the couch with me.
But I was so resentful & angry, and I buried those feelings in cookies. And then a bowl of grape nuts. And when I still couldn't sleep after midnight I started watching a movie. I still had a hope that I could get up at 5, but it was a sliver, at best.
At 2:45 Luke woke up, calling "Mommy, can I get up yet?" NO! You can't get up! I tucked him back in, turned on his lullaby CD, and he stayed put. But I was up again. No food this go round, because I felt a little sick from the midnight carb loading. But I was still seething.
Then at 4 a.m. Sophie is awake. For the 2nd night in a row. It's probably the new straterra, which she's taking at night so she'll sleep through the side affects. So I had to move to her bed to help her get back to sleep. It took her a good hour to fall asleep again, and I tossed & turned right beside her.
5 a.m. came & went. No wake up for me. No workout. Only disappointment. & a little bit of sleep.
At 6:15 the dog started whining & crying. So I finally just gave up & got out of Sophie's bed. Thankfully the coffee had brewed at 5 a.m. (love the automatic coffee pot), but I sat on the couch watching CNBC at 6:30 just pissed at the world.
While I was getting my shower this morning I kept asking myself---WHY MUST I INTERNALIZE EVERYONE ELSE'S ISSUES? And why do I feel the need to punish myself, my body, my family (in an indirect way, but I still feel like I'm punishing them, too) by eating crap in the middle of the night? I know I'm stuffing down the feelings. But WHY do the feelings erupt at all? Why can't I just disconnect and deal with the interruptions with grace, poise, and peace?
I don't feel hopeless this morning, mostly because the sun is shining & it's going to be 72 today, and both the kids are at school (hallelujah!!!!) and Mark is at work, and I am going to run this afternoon at least 5 miles, come hell or high water.
But I've got this internalization issue stuck in my craw. I think it's at the crux of it all.
So, now what I need to know is, how in the hell does that get fixed?