Fire in the belly

One of the greatest things about working part-time from home is the flexibility of my schedule. If the 5-year-old needs to sleep in one day, well gosh darn it, she can. I don't have to squeeze errands in on evenings or weekends. I can work out in the morning or afternoon.

The biggest challenge I find, however, is the lack of decent running options locally now that J is no longer in the stroller. [Note I have multiple friends who think it's no big deal to push one, or God help me, sometimes TWO kids who are above preschool ages in large jog strollers. For this and many other reasons they are better people than I am.] Sure the neighborhood is fine - 3.1 miles of fairly hilly and self-contained streets. But what if J doesn't feel like biking those hills? What if I want choices? I am easily bored and distracted, and need the constant challenge of something new to keep me motivated. I heave a melancholy sigh each time I read about the Rave Runs in Runner's World. I look back with longing for the days when I had access to miles of paved trails within walking distance from my old house.

The closest park with a run/walk trail is a good 20 minutes away, and though not inherently a logistical tragedy, its one-mile loop has a prohibitively steep hill for little girls just getting there sea-legs on two-wheel bikes. And it's not like I can leave her at the playground while I run - 1 mile is just to wide of a loop to keep her safely in view.

I know, I know. Enough already about my 99.9% perfect life. But, you see, I wake up each day with a fire inside, wondering when and how I can get a good run in. It's like there's a voice in the distance all day, asking, "Is it time yet? Feel your legs - they're ready. Feel your heart - it's ready. Go...go...go..." Everything I do, from schlepping to the store, to brushing a child's teeth, to writing project plans, is colored with the fact that it falls either before or after a workout. And more than a just chance to stay healthy, sweating is a release to me. It's a daily chance to feel OK, relaxed, at peace inside.

Thus today I was on a mission. Before lunch, J and I headed out to explore a park I recently noticed up on a hill, a mere 10 minutes from my house. There appeared to be a track, as evidenced by an oval fence, bleachers, and tall flood lights visible from the road. A track is perfect for interval training with a child in tow. I can plunk her in the middle, slather her with sunscreen, plop down some toys and water bottle, and keep my eye on her the whole way around. But CURSES - there was in fact no track - only unpaved athletic fields. A small pavilion and worn playground sat at the rear of the parking lot, with a small section of parking oriented perpendicular to the main lot. J scrambled with delight out of the back seat and up onto the grass, little brown arms and legs pumping hard to get her up to the playground. I stood quietly wondering how to turn this disappointing scenario into a decent workout.

The playground stood about 10 yards off the lot. To the north and east there were baseball diamonds, and a large soccer field where a lone practitioner kicked 3 balls the length of the field with no sense of urgency, slowly loping to the far side as he completed each round like a one-man, life sized game of gnip-gnop.

"MOMMY MOMMY, come play with me!"

"In a couple minutes...Mommy has to run...somehow," my voice trailed off at the end. Can I run the length of the soccer field without getting in this guy's way? Can we possibly leave and head to the nearby school where there is certainly a track? No - it's crowded with construction vehicles and equipment as they try to complete a new building before the new school year. And J will be so sad if she has to get off the jungle-gym. We just got here.

I turn and squint to the south, across the little parking lot down to the enormous fenced-in soccer fields. All gates appear to have padlocks on them. Now what? It's 30 minutes before J will start getting hungry, there are rain clouds on the western horizon, and we're at least 30 minutes from any other park. My eyes settled on the parking lot. I noted that its asphalt loop appeared to comprise about an eighth of a mile total. Oh well, I sigh, here goes nothing.

Six speed loops (each fast enough to make we want to vomit, but not so fast that I had to slow down) and seven jog loops later, I joined J on the playground. We climbed over rusty bridges. We attempted tic-tac-toe with the spinning plastic cubes where the x's and o's had long-since worn off. We pretended to be on a fishing boat. We explored branches and exposed roots under the parks mature trees. I explained what lichen is. She showed me piles of sand near the car.

As we hopped back in the car before the rain, the voice whispered, "You should do an easy 3 later at home, maybe while she bikes." I nod, organizing the other tasks to be accomplished today, all to be labeled 'after part of the workout.' At least it's better than nothing...