...as in, what kind of poor internal clock do I have that decides in mid-June/early July Georgia to become (just a) runner?
The kids are home. All day. Every day. (Which is actually really awesome and fun. Just doesn't leave a lot of free training time for me...part of the reason tris are on the back burner for now. That and the fact that you couldn't pay me enough to get up at 5:00am to flounder in the pool. That alarm gets little to no use in the summer. The Alice alarm is much more reliable. 5-5:30am "MAMA!" "MAMA!")
The treadmill is an option, although not a great one. It's so freaking boring, all I can do is intervals. They make the "so freaking boring" treadmill time go by a little faster since they're fun. I am a little sick that way. I love intervals. My legs? Not so much.
Early mornings are out, Mike leaves for work too early to get in anything before light. Have I mentioned I am scared of the dark?
After dinner is out. Tried that. Had to make an emergency call to Mike, "come get me, NOW. Like, NOW, NOW, NOW" He found me a mile from home, knock kneed walking, sweating (not from the run), complaining that there was nowhere, NOWHERE to go in our neighborhood. Ella inquired from the backseat, "Mommy, do you have to poop? Like, really bad?"
So, afternoons it is. Alice is napping. The trusty tready is ready. The World Cup is on. Ella is fully immersed in "Phineas and Ferb". We're getting it done.
Two days a week, I have a reprieve. The babysitter comes! (Whoo Hoo! Let's go running! Love this!) At 2. (Holy #@$%, I think I am literally cooking from the inside out right now. Why are tracks black? I think I can hide underneath the concession stand in the shade for my rest interval. I wish I had my early 90's eyebrows right now, these plucked, waxed, tweezed little suckers are NOT keeping these buckets of sweat out of my eyes!)
Getting it done. Yet, still whining about the heat.
This is what seven miles at starting at 2:30 looks like...not pretty.