So I didn't post on Tuesday, and here's why. I was pissed. I'm talking lightning shooting out of my eyes, breathing fire on anyone who dared speak in my direction pissed.
It didn't start that way, though. I had the day off work, which was awesome, and had planned to take a run with Omari and his kids. His boys were going to ride their bikes around Centennial Park in Columbia while I jogged with Pickle in the jogging stroller. Before my sweet hubby left for work, he showed me how to get the wheels off the stroller so I could pack it in the car and bandaged my gross injury on my back (from my sports bra digging in during my long run last week). Everything was perfect in the morning. Until I went to go get dressed for our 9:30 meet-up with Omari and his kids.
While I was upstairs, Pickle decided to play with the front tire of the jogging stroller. My son is very mechanically inclined for a 3 year old, but mostly, he's mechanically destructive. I came down stairs to him with the tire in one hand and the rod to the tire in the other. We were already running late, so I picked up what I thought were all the pieces and threw them, and Pickle, in the car.
When I got to the Park (after driving for 25 minutes) for our run and began to put the stroller together, the front tire wouldn't stay on. It became apparent that at least one piece was missing. Omari's kids were already riding around the lake with their grandfather and Omari was ready to run, and there was no way I was going to be able to do it with a broken stroller and a crazy 3 year old. I was so angry with Pickle. He kept screaming that he wanted to go for a run, and when I say screaming, imagine the noise of a shrieking banshee; that's more along the lines of his scream.
I went to a nearby hardware shop with the hope they'd have the piece we needed (even though I had no idea what it was). I was told it was a specialized piece and would need to go to a bike shop. By this point, it was already 10:15. And Pickle was still screaming because now he was getting hungry. I decided to scrap running Centennial Park then, and knew I needed to take Pickle to daycare. I was just too angry and couldn't bring myself out of it, especially because the banshee screaming was continuous. Apparently Pickle really wanted to run, too.
So while we were driving home, I called my hubby (don't worry. I have a Bluetooth). I was feeling like the world was against me. I told him the whole story and he just rolled with laughter. Somehow, that made me laugh. He told me that the way things were going down was just too comical. And he was right. So for the next few minutes, I was feeling a little better. (By the way, I love that about my hubby. He always knows how to make me feel better. Laughing is a sure cure for me... at least for a little while.)
I dropped Pickle off at daycare, and drove over to the track. In 1 hour, the temp. jumped from 70 to 85. The sun was blazing and I forgot to put on sunblock. Great, I thought. This meant I was going to get toasted. I felt my anger rise again. And since I was already kind of angry and hating the world, I decided it would be best to do speed work. That really makes me a hateful person.
But punishing myself a little brought me out of the angry funk. And on the way home, I was feeling a lot better. While I was driving, I could see a turtle dove sitting in the road ahead. I figured it would fly off as I got closer. It didn't. I hit it. Turtle doves mate for life and I had just taken out someone's spouse. And then started to cry (the last time I hit an animal which was in high school, I was sad for days).
I got home and had to start preparing dinner; my brother and his fiancée were coming over for dinner, and I promised to make homemade lasagne. At the time, it was only 1, and dinner was at 6, but sauce takes a while to make. While I was rushing and throwing ingredients into the pot, Omari called. Here's our conversation:
O: So do you want good news or bad news first?
Me: You may as well start with the bad; I'm in a really pissy mood.
O: Well, after you left, I ran 11 miles.
Me: (silent pause... thinking and this is bad how?) How is this bad news?
O: Well, I'm just saying that's as bad as it's going to get, which is good news. So the good news must be really good.
Me: (thinking everyone must really hate when I get all Polly-Anna, because I'm a little annoyed by his optimistic outlook)
O: So here's the good news. I just got an email from the Baltimore Running Festival. I'm in the Half Marathon!
I was so excited. Especially since just a few days before, I was having anxiety attacks about not having a running partner/motivator this time.
And now it seems Destiny sent another runner my way, Erin (read her blog here). She and her running friend, Katye (read her blog here), were running near Omari and me during the Maryland Half. Oddly enough, we all remember talking with each other. Hopefully, Erin and I can run together before the race and then keep each other company during the half.
Warning... here comes Polly-Anna... again. I guess when things start getting me down and the world piles up on me (even if it's the most ridiculous and simple of things), I have to remind myself that it'll all even out in the end. The running gods have decided to smile upon me-- except my running shoes are still wet from Thursday. I'm hoping the running gods can help out with that before my 9 miles tomorrow. :)