When my kids are sick, I take them to the doctor. When I'm sick, I overdose on OTC medicine and hope for the best. I've had a sore throat, runny nose, and swollen glands for about two weeks now. Everyday I get up and do what I have to do, including running, because when you're a Mom, there are no sick days.
I slogged through last week's runs without my Garmin telling myself it was an "easy" week. This week was supposed to be my "prepare for a local 5k next weekend so you don't look like a fool in front of your husband's colleagues" week. On Tuesday, my 4 mile run felt like 8 miles. I spent the rest of the day laying on the couch, wishing I could take a nap. This morning, my alarm went off at 5:45. I hit snooze. 7 minutes later it went off again, I debated for about a minute, shut the alarm off, and went back to sleep. In my defense, I was up during the night because it hurt to swallow and I haven't been sleeping well recently. Eventually, the kids and I got up and I realized it wasn't that hot outside. (These days "not that hot" means 75 degrees and under). I asked W if he wanted to go running in the stroller, thinking I could redeem myself and get a few - in this case 3 - miles in. He was agreeable (E doesn't get a vote yet), so off we went.
3 miles turned into 4 and then 4 miles turned into 5 with a stop at the park so the kids could play on the playground. It was one of those days where running just felt right. The sun was out, but not too hot; there was a cool breeze, and for some insane reason I wasn't tired. I should have been tired. Pushing the kids in the stroller is a workout in and of itself. Sometime in that first mile or so I came upon that mythical place: the place where your mind and body separate, you just run and actually enjoy it. It doesn't happen enough, but when it does, it sustains me.