We’re working on an agreement around here that I get to run on Saturday mornings while my husband watches the kid. I’m trying to do interval training of some sort once a week, and today was hill day. I planned to run for 90 seconds uphill, walk down, and repeat about 5 times. The hill closest to our home doesn’t take 90 seconds to run up, and the first run revealed that it takes about 50 seconds to run up the hill. I figured I’d do eight runs. That means I ran for less than ten minutes on my run this morning. The people sitting in their garage watching the neighborhood go by did get to see me run or walk past 14 times–they went inside somewhere around run 6, but came outside again at the end.
This afternoon, I was trying to stand on tiptoe to reach the top shelf of my cupboard. I couldn’t do it. These calves are going to hurt tomorrow. This better be making me faster.
In other news, my attempts to keep up a running narrative of my child’s life to expose her to language and all have made me someone who talks to herself all the time.