Then, I think, the run not taken is probably in my best interest. At least that is what I keep telling myself. We are less than two weeks from race day, on vacation, parenting two young children, and trying — as always — to find the best balance of all activities. Too much running and we get sick and tired. Too little rest and we end up short-tempered and irritable. But we really like to run and we really want to rock this race. We did a long run (2 hours) on Monday and a pretty intense speed workout yesterday. (Each repeat as fast or faster than the one before it. Oh my.) Today I was falling asleep in the car, falling asleep in the wood-working shop. Thankfully it was Micah who was driving and operating the swiftly moving blades (for the most part), but I decided that with less than two weeks to train, a rest day is almost as good as a run day. I say that, because my brain knows it is the smart thing. But I’m sure my body will be aching for a run by the time we get to bed tonight.

So I’m just going to keep saying it to myself: My body needs to heal. My body needs to repair. My body needs to rest. Rest is part of training. Rest is good. Without rest I will not enjoy running 13.1 miles in the heat of an Ohio summer. Without rest I will morph into a monster and yell and my children. Without rest I will want to cry whenever they hold up their arms to be held.

Maybe I should write a song about it:

“Without rest I’m not okay.

Without rest I’ll lose my way.

My brain’s stuck in 2nd gear

without rest.”

Hmm . . . that sounds so familiar. Oh wait. That’s because it’s been done before. And now you can go through the rest of your day with the Dixie Chicks stuck in your head. You’re welcome and goodnight.

I’m going to bed now. Unless I decide to go for a run instead.

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