I ran five miles today. Here I should say "I know this is hardly a marathon" or something about my snails pace, but I'm not going to. It was the longest run I've ever done, and it took me an hour. According to the treadmill (oh yeah, and it was on the treadmill...) I went 5.25, which is what I think I will go with, but I had to keep going so my iphone would also believe I had gone 5 miles and post as much to Facebook. Not going to post 4.75. Sheesh.
I really needed it today. I needed it yesterday, but instead I went to pick up my kids at my moms and ate 1300 calories worth of cookie dough and vented about my weenie problems to my mom and sister, which was also helpful, but not as therapeutic as running five miles today.
I have done "marathon" sessions of bikram yoga--regularly, at one time, 90 minutes in a very hot stinky-ish room doing somewhat painful things (and some very painful things) and that was helpful. The last time I did that was right after Lily died, probably the very next day, and I remember laying on my belly with my arms pressed together under me, and my back arched and my feet pressed together in the air, and staring right at the instructor who was staring at me, and knowing she could tell I was somewhere quite painful, and it wasn't just the posture. When I left I felt better.
Today when I started running I was planning on 3 miles, and flirted with the possibility of doing four, but really thought I only had the time and energy for 3. Then I started running. I ran my fastest first mile ever listening to the playlist I put together last night entitled "April 14." It is a GOOD running playlist. I ran my fast mile listening to my fave band The Killers and the always motivating "The Boys of Summer" (The Ataris) and thought about growing up and going to Laguna and Newport every summer and hiding out in my overalls under my umbrella while my sisters bask in the sun in bikinis. I thought of the red polkadot matching suits I just bought my girls for this summer, and of how I need a new big umbrella.
I listened to Kenny Chesney singing "We were brave, we were crazy we were mostly, young." I laughed inwardly and thought of my wild crazy young days, and then remembered that I didn't really have any. So I thought about calling in sick to my job at the Zuka Juice to go rollerblading, which is about as wild as I got as a teenager, although my mother weirdly saw me as a dangerous rebel. I listened to The All-American Rejects "Give you Hell" and thought about old boyfriends and how happy I am to have a happy marriage, a happy family, a happy little life. I thought about my recent minor disappointments at work and how I missed out on a bonus for not doing some stupid computer training program on time, and how i was demoted at the beginning of the year and docked a dollar in pay for not doing enough "administrative" stuff, and how now I am ridiculously busy at work with administrative stuff and working more hours because I was asked to pick up shifts, and am too busy to get my training done on time and still don't have "Senior" next to my name, or my dollar. Or my bonus. And I kinda just shrugged and thought "meh, work to live not live to work." But I may go ahead and fight that bonus thing. Yeah, give 'em hell.
I took a deep breath along with Jewel on "Standing Still" and thought about breathing deeply and driving up the canyon in tears, going through the transition between my "crazy" young love and my "adult" Forever Love. And I was so, so grateful. For both. But especially my husband.
And then, after many good songs and good memories and deciding things really aren't as dire as I've been feeling (acting), I was ready to move forward. After running four miles in place and getting, physically, absolutely nowhere. Yes, things aren't perfect. More family is moving far away, probably forever, and I would prefer we all stay within a few miles of each other, raise our kids together and have dinner together once a week. But everyone has to move forward. Yes maybe I've been working too much and for too little compensation, but I have a job I usually love with people I always love, and a great babysitting situation that doesn't make me feel guilty. For the moment. And I've had a great, rich life, and it just keeps getting to be more and more fun. Looking around my cute little living room which may possibly not be mine for very much longer, I'm ready to move forward.
My last mile was to possibly the greatest running song ever, "Holding out for a Hero" which 11 years ago I worked out to and thought about the hero I was holding out for, strong, fast and fresh from the fight, or rather, from his mission. I knew he would come along and we would move forward together. And he did, and we have, and will continue to. And I figured all that out running in place. For five miles. Did I mention that? I mean, who runs five miles? A runner, that's who. An awesome 31 year old mom wife mormon nurse mini-van driving cadbury egg eating life loving runner. Booyah.