Yesterday morning as I headed out for a run, I was wearing three tops, long leggings and gloves. I don’t mind wearing any of this stuff in the winter but it’s mid May and I mind.
The weather gets to me, I can’t help it. My husband keeps saying that we didn’t move to London because of the weather and I get it – I need to lower my expectations.
The run was hard but only because my legs were sore from Tuesday’s epic Crossfit session involving pistols (one-legged squats), weighted back squats and hip hinges. I concentrated on my running form, trying to lean forward from my ankles, lift up legs using my glutes and hamstrings instead of my quads and keep hands moving straight next to my body without them crossing over.
It’s funny this learning to run ‘properly’ thing – yesterday it took almost all the joy out of my running and when I got home I thought – “Stuff it, I just want to run! Just the way I run, just at the speed where it’s enjoyable!”
But of course I know that I have a competitive side and that side will not let me jog on at a comfortable speed, that side keeps pushing me out of my comfort zone. I think the key for me is to agree with that side of me that once a week it’s ok to have an easy fun run.
Since Wednesdays are my days off work, the rest of my day went by in the usual whirlwind of collecting my youngest from the nursery, spending time with him at a soft play centre because our house is cold/dusty/noisy from the renovation, picking up my oldest from school, taking them out for dinner, arriving at home when it’s already their bath time.
As a result of being on the go most of the day I snacked a lot yesterday, never really feeling full and kept therefore eating until almost 9pm. I just don’t know how to do this little and often thing right – it almost seems like proper meals with a couple of little snacks in between works better for me.
But anyway, my oldest son wouldn’t fall asleep at night for ages. I know he had swimming anxiety – he hates going swimming on Thursdays because the pool they go to is freezing cold and he hates that. Then he remembered something that had happened at school earlier and then it all spiraled into “I’m having the worst day of my life! I wish I had never been born!” etc.
Oh my. Parenting is a hard gig. I want my kids to be confident and secure in themselves and optimists in every situation but if it’s taken me over 35 years to sort of get to that mindset then I realise that they have a long way to go.
And it’s hard for me to accept that my kids will go through all the sh*t that I went through as a child / teenager / young adult. All the years of figuring out the world and yourself and where you fit in it. Tough stuff.
The good thing is that before I fell asleep my other half made me laugh so much I was in tears and this morning I woke up to bright sunshine and a great deal of the doom&gloom had lifted from my mind.
There will always be bad days. The days when my legs are too heavy and sore to run, the days when the kids say things they don’t mean, the days life just feels a little too overwhelming.
But these days pass. They always do. I have to believe that they do 🙂