Paige peers through the trees, where, in 14 days she will be playing. She wonders out loud, Will they like me? Of course, I say. But not as much as I like you...
Miles run this morning: 6.1 (no foot pain!)
Minutes I had to go back to bed this morning: 24
I've been messing with my blog as you can see from those page labels above. They are going to help me focus instead of writing about hamsters. Except maybe killing hamsters could go in the "motherhood" category.
Though I stayed up way too late watching the closing ceremonies of the Olympics (rather bizarre in my opionion?), I set my alarm for an unthinkable hour. Instead of the whining in my head, I kept Mo Farrah in my mind, crossing the line of the 10,000 meter race and all the hours of training it took for him to get to that moment. Did you see that look on his face? If all those amazing athletes can get up and train, then gosh darn it, I can drag my booty out of bed too. I tossed and turned all night next to a tossing and turning 5-year-old in my bed who has swimmer's ear (my diagnosis). I still got up and was sad to see, the sun is not rising as early as it was last week.
In 7 weeks I want to run the New Hampshire half-marathon. If I put myself into overdrive, can I be ready to run like Mo? I have this constant desire to push, push, push myself forward, then being unsatisfied when I don't have everything I want right now! I want to feed the orphans around the world, write for Time, publish my book, qualify for Boston, have those twins. Then the potty chair comes into focus, the dog runs away, and someone need to go to the doctor for swimmer's ear. No one can have everything right now! And right now I like what I have. I don't dare wish this time away even as I vacillate between the future and the present.
Gregor and I are reading the book, What Color is Your Parachute? It's a fantastic book involving a worksheet in the shape of a flower with all its supporting petals. The flower helps you focus on your end goal, identifying your strengths, and being able to articulate and write out the steps to reach your goal. Who will be your mentor? Who will be your network of support? What exactly do you need to do to get to where you want to be? What are the specific steps you are going to take?
Have you worked on your flower? Gregor asks me every night.
I have been resistant.
I don't have time. I'm too busy to think about it. I'm a mom right now and that's all I want to think about. Don't bother me!
In my mind I have this fuzzy idea of exactly what is going to happen in the next 5 years. Everything will work out the way I see it. Back up plan? My mother always said I would be a fantastic gym teacher. To which I scowl and say, It's physical education instructor. It was sad day when she was actually right, and that's what I studied in college. It does bring me back to my point of the page labels where I have added "running" and "healthy yum-yum." Focus on my strengths right? I could have said "nutrition" or "recipes" but healthy yum-yum is focusing on my inner cheerleader, (something wanted but never attained - come on, those cute skirts??)
We are planning in other ways. We have retirement funds, college funds, ten years of wheat in our basement. We finally got life insurance last week from a former student of ours. He asked me questions like What kind of birth control are you using? Do you have any breast abnormalities? Have you ever ridden in the rodeo? Bungee jumping?
Seriously. If one of us keels over I hope it was worth the urine sample.
Which brings me back to my 5 year plan. It is exciting. It is terrifying. The roller coaster isn't stopping so I may as well get on. I reluctantly ordered the 2013 edition of Writer's Market, which is a teensy weensy baby step in the right direction. Even if I did it with my eyes closed and someone else pushed my finger down on the "order" button. If that doesn't work out, I could always teach your child how to throw the javelin. Which is a class I actually had to take in college. And was by far the worse and most comical thrower.
Here we go!