I ran my third half marathon 13 days ago. The best part of the entire race was seeing my family at the most integral spots on the course Mile 9 and 11. It was an absolute thrill and extremely motivating to see my husband and the two little buggers!! First time ALL my men were at one of my races, loved it!
This was my slowest half marathon time EVER. I am disappointed that I didn’t knock the cover off the ball, but who the hell was I kidding? I only trained for six weeks, and I am not Deena Kastner. Um, so, I am thinking that I should be damn proud that I was only 5 minutes slower, but instead; I’ve been acting like my three year old when I told him no to the second piece of cake. If I could have had a full-on tantrum thrown myself on the floor, kicked, screamed I would have. Because I am 40and can’t really do that, I did what Deanna does best. I took it out on my body, my children and hubby. Nice!
In the last 13 days, I only worked-out five days. My family has eaten more processed food than we have in the last year. Because we’ve eaten this crap it makes me feel gross and sluggish. Because I was feeling gross and sluggish, my mood has not been great, because my mood has not been great I’ve been snapping at the kids, because I’ve been snapping at the kids they’ve have not been on their best behavior, because they have not been on their best behavior I’ve gotten more pissy, have cared less about planning good healthy meals, because I haven’t planned good meals, I’ve been feeling gross and sluggish and have not gotten up to work-out and because I have not been getting up to work-out, my mood has gotten worse and because my mood got worse, we’ve been eaten even more crappy processed food….And the cycle continues.
I made the cycle of torture connection yesterday morning when I was getting ready for work, and trying to get the kids off to school. As I was painting on a pair of pants, I caught my skin in the zipper, I screamed in pain, a big old OUCH (way too tight, could not breathe tight) it was at that exact moment that I overheard the kids playing Safari, we were so close to being late for school, something I was really trying to avoid. When I heard that the Lion was hunting the Zebra I actually feel apart and screamed “THE FUCKING LION BETTER BE GETTING HIS SNEAKERS ON, AND ONCE THEY ARE ON, THAT DAMN LION BETTER FIND THE ZEBRA AND GET HIS DAMN SNEAKERS ON TOO, DO IT NOW!!!!!”. This was a guttural scream, from the bellows of the beast inside, think exorcist combined with a WWF wrestler, I actually never heard myself sound like that. I was scared of myself and quite impressed. My poor children stood still, like little statues, they heard me scream before but never to the point of my voice cracking. After they fell over each other to get their sneakers on, I ran to the bathroom and burst out in tears, between sobbing like a infant with my big ole big tears (to match the big ass), and the hyperventilating gasps it hit me that I was so mad because I couldn’t fit into a pair of pants. Pathetic! I poured it all out onto my kids, the poor little buggers. Yes, they were not listening to me, and were goofing off, but they are just kids! I had no right to bellow at them like a beast. Utter Life FAIL.
After I calmed myself down, the kids were still paralyzed – I would be too, if my mom went from an angry beast to a crying mess. I couldn’t do anything else that morning to humiliate us all, so I ever so gently got their butts into the car, late to school again, and shamelessly apologized to the kids. As I was mumbling my way trying to explain to a 3 and 6 year old what I was feeling I half heartily told them I would never act like that again, knowing that I may not be able to keep that promise but I can try. I’m a emotional Italian, and certainly can’t promise that I won’t scream, screaming is like talking to me. As for the health and fitness life fail, the only thing I can do is to get out there like that Zebra being chased by the Lion, and just hope that I run fast and hard enough so I don’t get caught with my skin in the Lion’s teeth again.