Compounding last week’s events, the last few days haven’t been so hot either. I guess I’m feeling resigned, if not frustrated. Basically, my son failed out of college and we’re trying to figure out where to go from here. The last thing we need to do is coddle him or scream at him. He’ll be 20 years old next month and he’s made his “adult” choices and has to figure out how to live with them.
But like I said, I feel sort of resigned. It’s done. The official letter from the school came this morning. There’s nothing my husband or I can do to reverse the bad grades or the choices our son made to get them. All I can do now is let my kid know I love him and will help him navigate what decisions he has to make (if he wants help) and that he is always welcome to come home for a meal and to visit.
There really is no way to feel anything but terrible about this situation.
Sometime last week I started writing a lengthy post about my irritation with healthy living/fitness blogs that espouse “everyone’s body is different, this works for me” when justifying some of their weirder food restrictions and exercise habits. But I’ve decided to hold off on posting it, maybe indefinitely, because I’m snippy due to my family circumstances. I think I have an excessively critical eye because it gives me something to be annoyed with that is neither my son nor myself. It is a concern I’ve had about how these portrayals of healthy living can be dangerous for both the blogger and their audience. However, I want to be at least somewhat objective and less bitchy if I’m going to be somewhat controversial.
I’m painfully aware that this is shaky ground for my alcoholism, feeling like I’ve failed parenting. While I am unlikely to pick up a drink, I have to watch myself about using my running as a way to beat myself up. I am trying to relax about that. I still want to hit my training paces, but I’m not going to run myself through the shredder if my anxiety makes it harder to do so.
I did have a good long-ish easy run on Tuesday. I went in with low expectations, but I felt pretty great. My heart rate was back to where it should be, and my pace was significantly faster than my aborted run on Sunday. Comparing pace and HR, on Sunday by mile 8 I was running a 10:06 pace and my HR was 155. On Tuesday, my 8th mile was an 8:01 with close to the same HR. My average heart rate for the Sunday run was 146 and it was 145 on Tuesday, which is well within my easy/long run HR zone, and I was pushing a bit at the end of the run on Tuesday because I felt good. Just goes to show that stress really does have an impact on performance.
Yesterday I was able to get outside for an easy run. It was about 36 degrees with a 10 mph wind. I wore a new getup from Asics that I scored for $50 (black capris and a warm zip jacket in a gorgeous shade of turquoise) that worked great for the temps. Several sections of the park were still icy, which slowed me down and were hard on my perpetually tight calf muscles. I didn’t look at my watch and just breathed in the fresh air. Just before I hit 4 miles, I realized that even though this was not my best run by a long shot, I felt good, like I was doing what I should be doing. That this feeling was why I run. That even though I got passed by a guy in a Boston Marathon shirt whose easy pace would lap my hard pace, I was totally happy to be where I was just in that moment.
I hope my son can find a place like that for himself.