No escape?

Did I just forget to write yesterday or was I just feeling overcome with everything else I needed to do? I’m trying to put my mind into course preparation. If only I could just pull readings from my files/off my bookshelf, find media to support the themes and call it a day. I need to read over a piece, and think about it and look for a companion article with an alternate viewpoint and question how interesting these might be to my students, and if the folks I’m co-teaching with will find the readings/topic compelling or trivial. This is the hardest part of the semester.

I’ve been up and out the past few days and back from my run by the time Don and Henry are waking up. I like to be home for breakfast. Today I was up way too early— before 5 am— and ready to start the day. Would the scheduled 8-mile run energize me or deplete me? Do other working/running moms ask this question every day? I was out the door just as the sky was starting to lighten and street lights fade. As I crossed the bridge over the river heading north, the eastern sky was colored with pale pink and orange washes reflecting off the water. This is the reward for getting out at dawn. I try to savor these moments and balance them with all the times I glance at my watch and chide myself to pick up the pace, and the fretting about one ache or pain or another, or my concerns that I’m on the wrong training team. But I enjoyed maintaining a steady, strong pace up the long hills on both sides of the bridge and up the final brief hill on Forrest Hill Ave which on some days feels like one final assault.

I dropped Henry off for Passages climbing camp. Either it’s hormones or I am deeply moved that my son is climbing, and I miss it, and it make me tear up just a little. I want him to know (and I miss) that exalted feeling after an especially rewarding or dangerous or frightening climb when you’re safely tied into an anchor and able to enjoy the view from the top of the climb or the cliff. There’s nothing like it. I has no idea what I’d feel like after completing my first marathon. I didn’t cry, as many folks do. I was just hurting and tired and relieved. My friends and family, I think, were more elated than I was. Climbing was an escape. The life style, the culture, the adventure. Running, at least for now, is very integrated into daily life: where I run, how that day’s run affects what I feel like, how I interact with my family…etc. Maybe for others it’s an escape. And now, it’s back to work.

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