What's up, crazy?

Yesterday I ran 18 miles. As18-milers go, this one went pretty well. Lately on long runs I'm getting side stitches several miles into the run -- I usually never have trouble. A pace group leader told me to stop gulping air. Easier said than done, haha.

I am still training for the Chicago marathon -- we're about to the midpoint of the 17-week training.
That was my longest run since before I got pregnant with Baby C, now 16 1/2 months. I still have long Saturday runs of 12, 19, 20, 14, 20, 12, 20 ahead of me, followed by taper... but who's counting? 


The training is going really well and I've surpassed 30 miles a week! Someone the other day told me I had that skinny runner look. I'm a little embarrassed to admit just how much I liked hearing that. Then I may have demanded they share their cookies with me. My memory is fuzzy sometimes...

Yum

I can tell I'm in the thick of marathon training because I'm starting to do slightly weird stuff. I've begun buying and eagerly consuming a weird-tasting Gatorade recovery drink. I mean, it's like there's some derivative of ethanol dumped in fruit punch. But the hot summer and long mileages absolutely wipes me out -- and mommies of 3 and 1 year olds need to bounce back quickly! -- so I'm trying to help my muscles recover faster. So, down the hatch. My work fridge is also stocked with Gatorade, the more normal-tasting stuff.

Yum yum

Following yesterday's run, I drove straight to the grocery store. In the parking lot, I put on a clean shirt like it's perfectly normal to change clothes in public. I ran inside and bought only a package of bacon. I sashayed into the house with the bacon and my empty Gatorade bottle. My husband eyed me as if to say, "what's up, crazy?" I fried up half the package and devoured too much. Sorry, arteries.

And, everytime the hub makes a suggestion of something cool we could do in August and September, I secretly run upstairs to my nightstand and scan my training schedule to see what my long run is that Saturday. Iowa football game? Hmm, OK, but I'm running 20 that morning. Just haul my tired butt up the grandstand stairs, please?

So my not-a-real-problem challenge is that I'm trying to balance the marathon training with being the ideal mama on the weekends, making sure we still do fun family stuff. It's only fair. But I am tired.

A friend recently sent me a WSJ story "Don't hate her because she's fit". The story begins talking about a mom who runs 9 miles before dawn, and then proceeds to go on and do more supermom stuff throughout the day. I'm like, hey, I sometimes run that much before dawn! But I don't go on to Pilates and other stuff. I go to work, slug Gatorade at my desk and eat a disgustingly large bagel. And hope I don't look as tired as I feel.

The WSJ story is pretty interesting, including a bit about whether workouts are self-indulgent or guilt-free stress relievers that struck a chord. Sometimes I'm pretty adamant that I should be selfish. I'm taking care of my body so I can stay young (er) and keep up with my little monkeys, since I'm in my mid-40s and am going to be ancient by the time Baby C graduates from high school.

Other times I feel a little guilty -- I mean, I could just run sometimes, not train for a marathon -- but geez, something compels me to train and race. Selfish? OK, maybe. I'll just add it to the Giant Mom Guilt List I've had for nearly 20 years. And since next Saturday is a "cutback" mileage week with only 12 miles, I'll lay off the bacon.