Metaphorically

 

I’ve really painted myself into a corner. Except that I don’t like that analogy—who paints floors anymore? You only hear really old people tell stories of how they painted themselves into a corner in their youth. It’s more like I mopped myself into a corner. Except that I don’t mop. It’s more like I Swiffer Wet-Jetted myself into a corner.  And here’s how:

I opened my big, fat mouth and told everyone that I was going to run the Amica Insurance Half Marathon in December to get rid of my big, fat, post-pregnancy bum.

As you may remember, I was able to procure a rather fancy jogging stroller several weeks ago with some amazing store credit, and yes, I love it, but I didn’t plan for Miles not loving it. Or the fact that when you haven’t run, I mean really run, for over a year, it kinda sucks.

My original plan was to get into running shape in September when Chris had a regular schedule that would allow me to run in the mornings after feeding Miles. Except that sometimes I still needed to pump. Sometimes I really needed to eat breakfast. Sometimes it was too hot. Sometimes it was too humid. Sometimes I just wanted to sit on the couch and watch the Today show followed by The West Wing.

So then Plan B was to just hit the ground running (literally) once the jogging stroller came in and the weather finally cooled off. I have tried, really tried. But when your training program tells you to run 5 miles on your third day of training, it’s not pretty. Miles is usually good for about 30 minutes. Yesterday he was fantastic. Today, we only made it a mile.

And I didn’t account for the SNAKES! Today I finally got Miles calmed down by walking really slowly so that he could stare at the trees, and we were about a quarter mile from the car when I spotted a snake in the middle of the path. I stopped (far enough away to be completely safe) to assess the situation. It wasn’t terribly huge, but I’m not sure that really matters. I HATE snakes! I thought perhaps it was dead, smushed by some heroic biker, because it wasn’t moving, but there was no way I was going to test that theory by walking past it. I backed up a little bit more and contemplated throwing something in it’s direction to see if it moved. But what if it started moving? I would be forced to turn around and go back the way I came, the opposite direction of the car. So I just stared at it. And then I saw it’s tongue move. I froze. I waited for it to slither across the trail. And then I sprinted away. I may have even looked back to make sure it wasn’t following us.

And then I decided that if I can sprint with that stroller, then maybe this half-marathon thing is do-able. Maybe.

If I pay for registration, then won’t I be forced to do it?