After freezing my buns off running earlier this week, I went to bed last night battling a sore throat. I prayed that I would wake a new person. Instead I woke to the sounds of my husband vomiting and dry heaving in the bathroom all night long. My kids have been ok, but complaining of no appetite and belly aches, so when my alarm when off at 6:00am this morning, I questioned the soundness of my judgement in running today. But running Sunday mornings is never an option - it's a part of life. So I got up, tiptoed around making coffee and drinking water and UCan. My tummy rumbled, but I told myself it was psychosomatic. My throat was sore...but no one ever died of a sore throat.
I made breakfast for the kids and left a lovely arrangement of fruit and cereal on the breakfast bar. I decided I would race out to the trail, run as fast and efficiently as I could, and hopefully be home before anyone else got sick, including myself. Before I left the house, I told my husband in his feverish state that he could call or text anytime and then proceeded to escape his germs, feeling equally relieved at the chance to get some fresh air, and intensely guilty for leaving the kids to fend for themselves with a very sick papa.
I got to the trail head just after 7:00am. I was the first one there. It was quiet, warm and peaceful. I quickly adjusted my clothing for the 1C temps and took off on my 33K run. It was so mild. The sun came up, I said good morning to "my" deer that I always see 2-3.5K into the run. But my legs felt heavy and so did my heart. I waited with dread for that text that one of my children was sick, or that my husband wasn't coping so well.
What was I out here for? I felt like a really sh*&tty mom, and an even worse wife. I know I needed to log the miles. But did I have my priorities in check? Earlier this week, my boss sent me a quote, "Running because it makes me a better version of myself," and then later I posted on FB, "Love is when the other person's happiness is more important than your own." Hmmm. I slogged around the Bur Oak trail in the morning sun/deep snow questioning my WHY.
In the words of Carrie Bradshaw, I couldn't help but wonder... Was my running making me a better person? Did my running set a good example to my kids? Were my running priorities balanced with my family priorities? Fundamentally I could say yes. I really strive to make sure my personal running goals don't take away from family time, often getting up REALLY early to get my runs in. I never want my kids or my husband to resent my running. And I can proudly say that my son loves to run with mommy. But today....I sure felt like I was failing them all by leaving my kids with a sick husband while I left the house for 5 hours.
So I ran as hard as I could...which wasn't fast considering I wasn't feeling so well myself. I waved hello at friends on the trail, not stopping to chat lest I lose my resolve to complete the miles, or even worse - start vomiting on the trail myself. I spent our first sunny spring-like run day running with a "lets go to work and get this done" mentally. What a shame!I just finished the book, Out There, by Dave Clark. In his book, he truly opens himself up and exposes his very intense personal struggles with addiction and then his recovery through ultra marathon running. I'm posting this today to put myself 'out there'...to once again highlight that ultra running is not always unicorns and rainbows, as my friend Sarah says. It can be hard! Sometimes it's a slog in heinous weather, through gnarly terrain, or done while battling indigestion and tummy upset. And sometimes our training happens in perfectly sunny spring-like conditions in which everyone else is celebrating - but the mind and the conscience become the battleground.
I am happy to say I finished my run, and made it home in time to spend an awesome afternoon with my kids while my husband recovered. Today, the rainbows came after the run.
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