This afternoon, E took my iphone and threw it at her brother's head. All I could think was "well, at least it wasn't a golf club". Yeah, that pretty much sums up the last week and half.
Last week's runs were junk. I whined and complained through each mile and barely dragged myself through my long run of 11 miles. I just wasn't feeling it. I'm chalking it up to a combination of homesickness and adjusting back to "real" life. 5 weeks of not having to worry about dinner, cleaning, or anything really, tends to make one complacent. Or, in my case, really lazy. It doesn't help that Direct TV has 3 channels of Olympic coverage.
Some weeks are ugly. Some weeks are littered with loud voices, time outs, and tears. Some weeks produce runs that make you wonder why you're even trying. That's when you get out of bed, lift your head up, pull your shoulders back, and dare the world to give you another bad week. This week, I issued the challenge and then ran back to bed and climbed under the covers. Baby steps. I figure by next week, I'll have my mojo back and all will be well. Today, W pooped on the potty so I figure we're headed in the right direction. Successful potty training one day, a successful run the next. Whatever it takes.