It used to be I ran for “me” time. Now I run for “sanity” time. According to my training schedule, I was supposed to do five miles this morning. I did eight. As I said to Adam when I returned, “Sorry for taking so long. I started running and, well, I didn’t want to come home.”
And why would I want to come home? My work schedule has been screwed. Last Monday I didn’t get to work because of Yom Kippur. This Monday I didn’t get to work because of Columbus Day. Next Monday I don’t get to work because I have jury duty (jury duty!), which I had postponed from a year ago, not knowing how swamped I’d be with work (you can only postpone once; I was actually game to go last year but was told there was nowhere I could pump and if I showed up with my baby I could be cited for contempt of court). So that’s three weeks of one work day after about a month of no work days because of Doodles switch from day care to preschool. Since mid-August till now, I’ve had one week–one–that I’ve actually gotten both work days in my week.
So I needed my day today both because I don’t want to fall behind and because I simply enjoy working.
You know where this is going, right? I’ve got two–count ’em two!–sick children to contend with. No daycare. No preschool. No work. No happy children. No happy mommy.
What a day. I’m ready for another run.
