Baking cupcakes at 10 p.m. — isn’t this how everyone recovers a few days after a marathon?
If I had not been so darn tired last night perhaps I might have eaten one of them.
That’s how I know this last marathon took a lot out of me. Even sweets aren’t appealing.
I began baking cupcakes after dinner last night and I thought I was well enough to enjoy them.
I promised myself some kind of treat after Sunday and during those last few miles Katie talked to me about chocolate to keep me going.
Normally I’m a chocolate-based life form, but since Sunday my appetite has been as flat as my spirits.
The few times I’ve been hungry I’ve craved fruits and vegetables, which is fine and healthier.
Also the cupcakes didn’t turn out as planned.
Tarzan spun himself into a tizzy while playing last night, hit his head on the hardwood floors and got a goose egg. We spent 2 1/2 hours in the emergency room. That’s why the baking didn’t commence until 10 p.m.
Finally I got to bed around 11 p.m. Then I woke up Tarzan every few hours (per hospital instructions) to make sure his head was OK.
Thankfully Tarzan is fine and he went to preschool this morning.
So there you have it — even as I attempt my recovery motherhood duty calls.
It always does, and that’s the other reason I am feeling the post-race blues.
In an email after the race Katie shared with me a recent essay from Runner’s World that talks about hitting the wall. I have not read it myself yet, but I plan to. From the gist of it, the author said what shows up in our lives, also shows up those last few miles of the marathon.
For me I know what that is. As a mom I am always “on” and doing and doing and doing for others, so it’s not a wonder I am depleted by the time I do something for myself. My whole life feels like a marathon before I cross the starting line.
I couldn’t tell you the last time I slept past 7 a.m. or more than 7 hours at a stretch uninterrupted, even when I’ve been sick. I hardly ever get to read a book or watch a TV show that I picked alone or in peace.
The other day both my children were at play dates at friends’ houses and it was the first quiet time I’ve had to myself (beside the running) in months. It was heaven and it made me realize how exhausted I am. I just vegged and I never veg.
I love my family; I just don’t love how their demands drain me, and they do drain me.
So my mission this week is not to be bitter but find a better path to balance. I chose my life and I don’t have any regrets.
I’m making a promise to treat myself with kindness before I train for Boston and to let my muscles and my heart heal as much as they need it.
And maybe, just maybe, in a few days or so, I’ll be ready for a chocolate cupcake again.
Aging is inevitable, but growing old is a choice. Lace up your shoes, and let’s go.
Mileage today: 1 (Yes, I did a test run for ny right knee and it said to stop so I did.); Denver to Boston miles logged: 734.2; Miles left to go: 1,035.8