Last night after I read Micah my post and hit “publish” he observed that in the past few weeks this blog has become more about the “Mother” and less about the “Runner” part of its name.
“Not that it’s a bad thing,” he said. “It’s totally understandable. It’s cold outside. We don’t get a lot of sleep these days. We’re just not running as much.”
“Okay, you’ve challenged me,” I said. “I’m getting up early and going running.”
As if on cue, Squish started crying. He’d been in bed for a few hours, but was waking up every now and then to cry some more. He’d had a fever earlier in the day and was a bit congested. I wondered if I could leave him to fall asleep on his own. I couldn’t. Micah went to bed while I held Squish on the couch. Once the boy was sawing logs, I took him into his room. As I stood over his crib, about to lower him down, he straightened out and started crying. Again. I put him down anyway, went to bed, lay there for about 10 minutes, couldn’t take it and brought Squish into bed with us. At 2:00 he woke up and started crawling around.
“If you don’t lie down and go to sleep, I’m going to have to put you in your crib,” I threatened. He didn’t stop. I put him in his crib. At 6:45 my alarm went off. I hit snooze, lay down for 5 minutes, then got dressed and was out the door 20 minutes later. I think I sleep-ran for the first 2.5 miles. I vaguely remember trying to pick up the pace once I was about a mile in, sure that it would warm me up faster. Two miles in I wondered if I was really running at all. I could have been crawling. I could have been flying. When I reached the halfway mark I started feeling good. By the time I hit the hill I found a Mark. He was wearing Vibrams, too, although they looked fancier than mine. I passed him by the halfway point, then turned my focus to staying ahead. But suddenly The Mark was running next to me. I just about jumped out of both pairs of pants I was wearing.
“Are those Injini socks you’re wearing? Do they chafe against your feet?” he asked.
I’d put most of my energy into passing him and didn’t have a lot left for conversation, but I managed to burble some response about how I didn’t even feel them. (Could it have been because I couldn’t feel my toes at all?) He was enjoying his Bikilas, he said, even though he’d only been wearing them for 4 months, even though he’d had an injury.
Too bad, I said. I’ve been wearing mine for nearly a year and a half and barely even notice them. When we parted a quarter mile later, we’d come to the conclusion that Vibrams are pretty sweet and we are glad we wear them. I think it was a good use of my brain power and respiratory energy, all things considered.
By the last mile I was warm enough to unzip my jacket and push myself to get home at 8:00, right when Micah said he needed to leave for work. I came in the door, toes painfully numb, sweat starting to run down my temples. Squish was still sleeping.
(That was a pretty great running story, eh?)