I tried to quit but . . .

Yes, it's true.  I tried to quit.  Several weeks ago after my 18 mile training run, I tried to quit. 
I haven't been able to get in my long runs on Saturdays which means either super early on Sunday, breaking them up on Sundays or running on Sunday afternoons (because I'm teaching Sunday School, of course).  I am a morning person.  Running after noon = bad.  I don't want to do much of anything after 3pm.  Five in the morning is much, much better than five in the evening. 

So when I did my 18 mile training run a few weeks ago, I wasn't in the greatest of moods to begin with.  It took me 3 hours.  My legs hurt.  They ached.  I was tired.  And I'd spent the majority of a weekend afternoon running.  Alone.  OK, not entirely alone since My Neighbor joined me a for a few miles around Mile 11.  But certainly without my girls or my man.  And weekends - at least for us - are supposed to be about family. 

So after feeling tired, achy and grumpy after my run, I decided it was just plain stupid.  Why am I doing this to myself?  Why am I spending all this time running?  It's never been a life long dream of mine to run a marathon.  I've never kicked myself for not doing it earlier in my life, unlike many other things I wish I'd done.  It's not one of those back-of-my-mind things I've thought about for years.  So why am I doing it?  I don't remember exactly.  I think it had something to do with needing a new goal, something to work toward and strive for. 

When my husband and girls returned home to find me soaking in a very hot bath, I announced that I had decided my training was STUPID and that I'd be changing my registrations to a half if the race organizers allowed that.  Angel Girl quickly responded with Mom, we don't say that word!   (Stupid, of course.)  So I said, OK, this is not smart.   And then to my complete and utter amazement my husband said, No.  You've trained too much for this.  You're too close.  Do it and then you can be done with it. 

And so it goes.  I am still training.  The 20 Miler is on Sunday.  I'm nervous and dreading it and worried about it.  I haven't gotten to do a 20 mile training run yet.  So I guess we'll just have to see how this goes. 

Getting Pumped for Races

Bad pun I know, but I couldn't resist. 

I am slowly learning a lot of lessons about races. 

Before the Princess Half in February, Little Miss Spitfire just happened to wake up and look at me at 3:30am, so I fed her right before I left to catch the bus.  Even with that feeding, it was another 5 hours before I was able to feed her again.  I'm sure sweat wasn't the only thing I was dripping by the time I finished the race (TMI?  Yeah, probably), but I wasn't that uncomfortable when the race was over.

Before the A2A Half in March, she wasn't awake before I left, and I didn't have my pump with me.  Big mistake.  Even though I was only gone for about 4 hours, she hadn't nursed recently, and I was not comfortable by the end of the race.

So now I know:  pump or breastfeed before the race.  Always.  Or at least "always" until she's weaned.