Yesterday morning – Labor Day, holiday, good excuse to sleep in day – I actually roll when the alarm goes off at 5am. I had a three-miler scheduled, and I was ready to knock it out.
But then I struggled. I fiddle-farted around, used the bathroom, checked my email, just generally took my sweet time. I did get dressed, and then I put my shoes on, and was starting to get the electronics all going, when I hear from the top of the stairs:
“Daddy, are you back yet? Daddy?”
Turns out the 3-year old apparently made it into the bedroom and asked my wife if he could go downstairs. She, thinking, reasonably, that I had left for my run told him he could when I got back. So he came to check. And I, having expected him to sleep longer, was not only not back … I had not left.
So.
So I wound up not going yesterday morning. I did the good husband thing and also dealt with the baby when he woke up at 6:30 and I let my wife sleep. We had a get-together at a friend’s house, and I felt guilty all day about missing my run.
And then I realized – no reason I couldn’t do it in the evening, right? I get so set in my ways and my schedules, and if something doesn’t work, I tend to throw my hands up and say “that’s it!” Its a weakness.
But I went yesterday evening and got my three miles in.
Just like I drew it up.
A Constant State of Hunger 