As I said before, I’m a planner. But I don’t mind adapting my plans when I have to.
Today, after days of glorious sunshine, we returned to more traditional British Summer Weather.
(that’s grey skies, lots of rain, and a nice cool sea “breeze”)
I’d planned to run first thing this morning, before the kids were awake. I’d got all my stuff out ready to creep off in the morning. But they’re all sleeping in my room this week (as we’re at my sister’s house) so I realised that, if I got up, they’d all wake up too, thus negating the whole reason for running at that time!
I didn’t bother to go out once everyone was awake, either, because it was raining. And it was grey and windy, and just totally uninspiring.
So I decided to just wait and run tomorrow night with the local running club. I was really looking forward to this run. I used to run with them when I lived down here, and they run through some stunning Cornish countryside. I’d emailed them in advance to check this was okay, and they’d said I was welcome. It was all arranged.
But then I found out that I wouldn’t be able to do this club run (for various childcare-related reasons). And, because we have quite a packed kids-related schedule for tomorrow, it was looking increasingly unlikely that I’d get a chance to run at all.
So I’d missed today’s run, AND I was going to miss tomorrow’s run. I started to feel a bit irritated and, actually, very slightly panicky. It was no one’s fault that all these plans had fallen through (except mine- for chickening out this morning)… but I just wanted to RUN.
We headed out for a walk with the kids when the rain stopped, and I consoled myself that I was at least going to get a nice hilly leg-stretch. I could do a spot of yoga later. It would be fine. I should stop obsessing. And all that…
We started off down the hill together. It was nice to get out, and the kids needed to get some fresh air, as they were beginning to get a bit cabin-fevered. Then suddenly, F started to scream and cry. His boots were hurting. His foot was hurting. He wanted to go HOME. His foot hurt. He didn’t want to WALK. It HURT…. etc….
F loves being outside and running around, so I knew he wasn’t just putting it on to get out of the walk. I resigned myself to the siutation, and turned round to return home. My sister carried on walking with M and M.
By the time she arrived back home, I was desperate to get out. I’d got dinner ready while she was still out, and got changed into my running gear. I apologised, and said I had to go out, or I’d go bananas. She understood. I ran off.
I found a new path to run along first of all. It ended with a downhill, so I ran up the hill 5 times then jogged over to the other path that I ran on the other day. I ran about half way up the long hill, then doubled back and ran home. I was conscious no one would be able to eat dinner until I got back, so I didn’t keep going, even though I was feeling okay.
It was only about 3.5 miles, but it was hilly. And it was needed!
So… I won’t get to run with the club this week, as I’d planned to. But I might be able to do so next week, as J is back then, and can put the kids to bed (he’s away at a conference right now). And I’ve also found out that one of the nearest Parkruns to here is in a beautiful “late Victorian country house with gardens and wooded estate”. Now that is surely an opportunity not to be missed!
It might, of course, not happen. It relies on my sister looking after my kids, for a start, and she might not want to/ be able to do that. But I can tentatively plan to be there. I haven’t done a Parkrun for quite a while. It’ll be another benchmark to lay.
We’ll see if it happens…