And then there are the days it all comes together

While this would be a lot more fun if I posted about the chapter in Run Like a Mother where they discuss managing taking a dump while running, I do understand that many readers enjoy the cameraderie of the Dimity and Sarah blogs and articles, so I will let it go. But c'mon, really? anecdotes about intestinal events?

To say it's been a struggle to kick start my "running" would indicate I've actually been trying. Save a few trots around the track and 1 bike ride, it's been a non-event.

But it turns out that I'm actually learning a few things from my ridiculous work schedule, also known as the great exercise in un-training: it never feels like the right time, it usually feels really uncomfortable, and the longer you sit and think about it, the more the opportunities race by.

So, the universe put a perfect storm in front of me:

Colorado summer. The New Englander in me still struggles with a summer that unofficially begins with the end of school in May, but Colorado backs it up reliably with a flourish of blooms, perfect blue skies, and amazing weather (sans humidity). A switch flips and every shape and form of biker, runner, and triathlete emerges from the woodwork.

The Bolder Boulder. I've only run it twice and the race has never been that compelling to me personally, but any race that brings that many runners out can't be ignored. I passed (i.e., drove by on way back from Pottery Barn) swarms of runners walking back to their cars after the race with that satisfied look of "race accomplished."

Colleen DeRueck. The fabulous 46-year old mom of two kicked some serious, serous ass. Won the women's division of the Copenhagen Marathon last month (2:30); 7th overall.

And finally, my own offspring, who I watched play two brutal lacrosse games in the 90 degree sun, taking a break between which to throw himself around a set of bouncy slides and obstacle courses, before taking off for hockey practice, after which I was informed, by his somewhat critical but loving dad, was his best practice ever. I had workout envy toward my 7 year old.

So my less-than-fabulous self found myself leaving dog, kids, and husband (how familiar!) and heading out the door. After several long door-step conversations about how long I would be gone, when would I be back, and would I be gone for a long time, I left. To go running, as it were.

In my neighborhood is one of those women you just know you like. I saw her four boys at the track before I saw her. I was planning run a lap, walk a lap, repeat to try to get at least 4 quarters in. After my first lap, I was pleased with my heart rate (perhaps leaving dog and kids at home is important part of fitness routine these days). During my walk, she fell in with me and did a lap of walking. With the distraction of a partner and the sheer joy of running with someone, I strung my next one lap into three. We chatted about running at 5:30 am, why no one mentions that 4-year-olds can be worse than newborns when it comes to sleep, and the guilty indulgence of having a housecleaner (and the universal agreement that it is cheaper than marriage counseling).

After a walking lap, I ran the half mile home, letting my heart rate float up a bit as I rounded the last corner. The result was almost an hour of cardio, a good solid bit of running, and a serious sweat thanks to the aforementioned early summer. It was amazing. I followed it with lots of stretches, a couple of lunges (yes, I did say "a couple of"), and five whole knee pushups.

It did the trick.

The stress was gone. The humor was back. All was right with the world.

The epilogue is that I then proceeded to stay up to 4 am to complete a project. The stress didn't come back, but I felt a loss. I can't push both ends and running is so important to me. I've let it sit for too long and everyone is suffering for it, even, ironically, work.

So, here's the commit to myself:

1. Pick two races next year. I wanted to run a fast marathon before I'm 45; I'm adjusting my expectation to commit to train, and train well, to complete one, as a birthday present to myself. And in the spirit of getting back to the fun of running, I want to run one half-marathon on a trail.

2. Get new shoes. In the long string of indignities that come with the miracle of birth, my feet have grown a half size per kid. With the "up a shoe size" rule of running shoes, I'm officially at the max. Size 11. I'm 5'6"! Add to that the cushioning and padding of the shoes I've worn that past few years and I feel like I'm running with wrapped two-by-fours attached to my feet. Somewhere out there is a shoe I can feel good in.

3. Use now as the habit base-building. There is a rule of thumb that if you do something for 6 weeks, it becomes a habit. I've wrestled with the creating-of-habit while ratcheting-up-training at the same time. It just doesn't work. I have ten weeks to just work on the habit and not focus on the training. This week I'm starting with every other morning, even if it's just for 20 minutes before work. If I can get myself to yoga once a week to view my cankles close up, I'll consider it a triumph.