i forgot how much the heat beats me down. it was 80 when i finally left for today's 9 miles ... i read somewhere that when you are running, it feels like the temperature is actually 20 degrees hotter. so that would mean i just cranked out (albeit barely) 9 miles in what felt like 100 degree heat.
i had every intention of trying to beat the heat & get this run done early today ... but then, i hadn't planned on this (which happened last night):
cooking the family of mice apparently living in the insulation in my stove.
i was fairly beaming with pride & a general feeling of grown-upness when i cooked fish for my family last night. fish intimidates me - i really don't like it in the ocean & really, i don't like it on my dinner plate either - but it felt grown up & responsible. suffice it to say - i had never done this ... nor had i used the broiler. ever. (we have lived in this home for 8 years). in a nutshell, my husband kept wondering what smelled so bad (i'm not even offended by this - just think the poor man has been so culinarily deprived that he just doesn't know what cooking fish smells like) - (apparently, the smell of mousey death escaped my nostrils). when the smoke detector went off, i knew dinner was ready. really. not trying to be funny - thats' just what happens here. its like a dinner bell in this house. we were completley perplexed by the amount of smoke pouring out from the stove & i thought it was going to combust at any moment ... my husband finally lifts off the top tray which revealed a lower tray COVERED in mouse droppings, lifting this tray revealed the fabulous spread they had for themselves in among the insulation. i am simulatneously mortified & laughing so hard i cannot stop ... we leave the house, music playing, half drunk glasses of wine, stove pulled out to middle of kitchen & we were off to Lowe's for a new stove. had to sit on front lawn when we got home to air out the death-smell that had permeated the place & drink more wine with friends while we retold whole story.
Three glasses of wine later & i knew i'd highly likely be hitting snooze when the call to running went off at 6am.
and that's exactly what happened ... so, after hitting snooze for an HOUR &amp; A HALF; i wake up and get my daughter ready for ballet, and have a little breakfast that i feel will fuel my run when i get back (in an hour) ... but then, i hadn't planned on this:
my dog having a seizure in the front hall.
this was a first for us & i thought he was actually going to bite it right then. right in front of us. honestly, (and this is awful, i know) my husband & i are waiting, hoping, wishing for it to happen. the dog is like linus ... just a cloud of dust, dirt, hair, stink & god knows what else follows him around. there's more, but i'll spare the details of how he's just let all sense of any sort of doggy decorum out the window. i'm finished with the dog thing. so while we want it to happen ... we don't really want it to happen. and certainly not in front of us, not in front of the kids. poor poor unloved little ball of filfth. well, just as i am feeling really sorry for him & worried about the kids who are FREAKING out -- all of a sudden, seizure is over (i'll spare the messy details) - he gets up, shakes it off and is himself again ... still, i insist my husband take him to vet. i take my daughter to ballet. i'm convinced the vet will say "we really should put him down - this is clearly the end" ... i even have my speech to the kids all planned out ... suffice it to say, $100 later i am driving home with the damn dog in the car ... & he just looks at me, fat, dumb, stinky, shedding & happy.
now - home, dressed & ready to run. finally - go out front door ... daughters see me heading out & want to run with me. they beg. how can i deny them? i must encourage this love of running. it takes 45 minutes for them to get organized & come with me. we go 3 blocks, turn around & go home. i get the mail & must stay home for a while & celebrate the fact that my son got into the school (public - yes, we have to actually apply & get accepted) of his choice!! we have a very happy 6th grader-to-be.
with all this craziness, i didn't bother to eat again (it is now 5 hours after my little breakfast) - when i am going to learn that if i want my body to run 9 miles, i need to put gas in the tank? must be nicer to body. it was a rough run ... but i did it.
i love my crazy life.