I knew March would be a struggle because of an unusually heavy workload. But I didn’t expect it to gain the upper hand with such veracity, and not with two weeks still to go.
Sisters are not supposed to call and say, “It’s stage 2” and then act like they have a cold, not cancer. Friends are not supposed to invite you to birthday celebrations you can't attend. Freelance clients are not supposed to forget the work will be late, and only because you’ve doubled hours at your “real job.”
For now I live for the reprieves, like this morning’s particularly picturesque group run along the coast. It was high tide and cloudy with no chance of meatballs.
The plan called for 8 to 12 miles, and I was fine for the first 4 from Solana Beach to Torrey Pines, but then came “the hill” – locals know which one – and I began to falter. By the return to Del Mar, I just wanted it to end. It did at somewhere in between: 10 miles.
Months like this, I approach early morning runs as a grace period before the day’s demands come due. Even if the runs don’t go as well as planned, they still provide time to prepare for the rigors ahead. And maybe process embarrassing moments, like getting caught peeing behind a pine tree or letting out a beaut of a belch just as three men pass.