This is my actual fridge door. It’s where a lot of life’s flotsam winds up, like the rough list of meals we’re having this week or the school’s monthly lunch menu, which is on the other door, along with some kid art. The golf ball magnets are my husband’s and are freakishly strong. (The magnets, that is, not my husband.) Those three comic strips have been with us through a few moves and still tickle me.
Years ago, during an extra long airport layover, I decided to start buying a magnet from every new place I visit, provided that place is big enough to have a magnet made for it. When I stand in front of the refrigerator desperately trying to remember what I was going to get out of it, I can look at all of the places and reminisce, which takes my mind off of the fact that I don’t know if I meant to put something in the chiller or take something out.
True story: I frequently find myself putting a dog toy or the kids’ lunch box trash in there, just because that is what happened to be in my hand when I walked past. Those are the times when I’m extra glad I’m not on a reality show.
Although in some ways, blogging about your life is a little bit reality show-esque, in that when you mention an embarrassing picture that you have lost track of, the taker of that picture makes a point to find it.
In the spirit of catching up with points made, then dropped, in previous posts, I’ve set up a go fund me site for those who’d like to contribute to Postpartum Progress in support of my journey, both towards the Pittsburgh Half-Marathon and out of my own postpartum depression. If you have a few dollars to spare, I know they will be put to good use.
On a less serious note, you all have offered so many great ideas for fun workouts, like Wii games or indoor roller skating. Trampoline aerobics sound both awesome and terrifying, like skydiving or being trapped in a clown car. I’m still not sure what I’ll do during that extra week I accidentally programmed into my plan but after this week’s eight miles with a 10 minute strong finish (which was strong until I hit the big hill up to my house), I’m thinking that I’ll hold a repeat of week 7 in reserve until later in March. It’s also not outside the realm of possibility that I’ll wind up getting the dread lurgy that my students are passing around and will need my “spare” week to deal with all of the phlegm.
Finally, my favorite (today, that is) fridge magnet.
It perfectly sums up how I keep finding myself doing awesome things like training for a half-marathon. But this willingness to embrace the crazy is double-edged; I keep bumping up against the reality that energy is finite. This blind spot has been a feature rather than a bug for most of my adult life. But I do have limits and sometimes I have to let something go.
No worries. It won’t be this blog or the half-marathon.
I’ve been working a few hours per week at my local bookstore for a few years. It’s a job I love because it’s fun to just go hang out with the books and the book people who wander in. I work with a wonderful bunch of women, too, which makes it even better.
My usual schedule is one weekday evening plus Saturday mornings. But last Saturday, after being on my feet all morning and then running nine miles, I completely ran out of steam. By the evening, I was just a mom lump on the couch who wanted to talk to my children but could only mumble and sip my NUUN.
Last Friday, I had a small-but-intense freak-out about the much, much longer Saturday runs coming up. While I’m mostly comfortable with my slow miles, they do mean that double-digit runs will eat up a fair bit of time. And time is the one thing always in short supply.
My weekdays are all about logistics, and I swear that most mother runners could route UPS trucks better than computers can. Increasingly, my Sundays are, too, since we seem to tumble from church to my daughter’s riding lessons to Scouts to work prep. I just needed one day where my biggest commitment is getting the run in.
The Toad’s owner, who is also a mom and a runner, is a) amazing and b) understanding. Until my race is run, I’m off of the weekend rotation. I’ll miss it, truth be told, but am learning to prioritize. Maybe that should be on its own magnet.
So what’s on your fridge door -- either real or imagined -- this week?