Rested

I haven't posted in a few days but I haven't really done anything to post about. Thursday I did a 45 minute Core Secrets workout and Friday and Saturday I did 5 mile runs to close out my week.

Friday's run was done in the heat and humidity of the morning. It was75 with 97% humidity as it had rained overnight. I would have been more comfortable during this run if I possessed gills. Nonetheless, I hit my splits in 9:03, 8:51, 8:24, 8:16, and 8:11. I closed out the day by going to bed with stomach cramps due to not keeping myself hydrated well enough over the course of my day. I felt better Saturday morning and ran another fiver.

It was 72 with only 34% humidity yesterday so my run was much more comfortable. I hit my splits in 8:20, 8:18, 8:02, 8:06 and 7:58. I tried to slow down but after a week of easy running I was ready to go.

I spent most of my run reflecting on my life. During high school and in my early twenties running was a way for me to get my problems out where I could examine them and leave them behind. I would write poetry in my head; some of it good, most of it bad, and when I started dating Kim I would compose love letters to her that I would put down on paper one I returned home.

Now, when I run, I just run. I don't examine anything, and I don't write love letters and poetry. Maybe I've just gotten comfortable and content with my life. I used to say that if I had to be sad to write poetry then I would rather not write poetry at all. I love my wife and son and maybe I should try to write more love letters but as long as I don't get complacent and fail to give of my time and attention I think they will forgive me for not having a few pieces of paper.

My son takes up most of my thoughts when I run. My wife and I have decided that falling in love with your child is a lot like the way you fall in love with anyone. You meet them the first time and you try to be around them as much as you can. When you aren't with them you constantly think of them and count the minutes until you can see them again. In most relationships that feeling fades a little after a few months but I'm beginning to suspect that it stays pretty intense for a long time when it is your child.

I think about him and how he looks like his mother and I anticipate the moment when I walk through the door, covered in sweat and dripping, and how I know his face will light up in a grin that is all for me and he will point at me and say, "Dah." My best friend in the whole world is an eleven month old whose vocabulary consists of the words: dada, mama, duck, go go go, uh-oh, and dizzy. I'm pretty sure he said the f-word the other day. I'm hoping he said duck though.