Ok, today I did NOTHING. Well, I went to work, and shepherded the Big Girl through a remicade treatment . . . and put out the trash and . . . you get the idea. I did everything except prepare for the Big Race. Here's the sad, sordid story: I planned to go to yoga, but when I told the Husband, he made a face of annoyance. Sensitive soul that I am, I was cut to the quick, and responded with a few fresh remarks, along the lines of "how come when I . . . but when you . . . it's not fair, etc." The Husband allowed as how he really didn't care if I went, but . . . The gist of it was the work was being unfairly divided, and I was a slacker, which I stoutly disputed. Moreover, I said, this was just another example of the low priority assigned my Marathon adventure by the rest of the household. The whole thing was so terrifically annoying (I missed the class due to time spent squabbling); I stormed out of the house and took refuge at Starbucks, where I cocooned myself into the biggest, softest chair in the place, and read about Pinter. Every so often I looked up from Pinter stuff to gaze into space and feel sorry for myself. Suddenly, as so often happens to me at Starbucks, I was struck with the tremendous personal insight: to wit, I myself have encouraged this disrespectful attitude towards my Marathon training, by squeezing it in around everything and everyone else. It has ever been thus. I decide to do these daring, wonderful deeds, and then I just squish them into the rest of the stuff I do. It's a messy way of life. Leads to confusion on everyone's part. How can I expect the other folks at home to respect my efforts when I don't even do it myself?
Therefore, I have resolved to write up a training schedule for the remaining four weeks, and to share it with the family. I will enlist their help in sticking to it, even if it means (gasp!) that they have to do a bit more around the house in the meantime. Only 4 more weeks folks! Time to get serious!
Good night!
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