This past fall, during marathon training, G and I were completing mid-week eight milers. I thought they were agony. I hated the thought of getting up early to run them (so not an early morning runner) and squeezing an eight miler in while taking care of three little ones is not an easy task. But somehow, I logged the miles, rather begrudgingly.
G, on the other hand, seemed to enjoy these runs. She even said to me, "Once this training is over, I think I am going to keep doing these mid-week long runs." I looked at her like she was crazy. I just couldn't understand why anyone would want to or could manage doing that. Until yesterday.
You see, yesterday was the first day of preschool for Doodle (she and Dizzle are now in the same class). Which meant it was the first day that I only had one child to watch. For four hours. It was bliss. My house was quiet. I wasn't stressed.
Taking advantage of my lighter load, I put Dilly down for a nap and jumped on the treadmill. My plan had been to run three. But while I was running (and decompressing) I wanted to go further. So I did. And in that moment, I understood what G was talking about. I could picture a day where I had no kids to watch (or just one to push in the stroller). I could picture a long mid-week run with ease. It was magical. And I can't wait for it to happen ...