Early run

I really did have good intentions of running this morning, but I knew that when my alarm went off at 5:50am and then again at 6:00 I would hit snooze. By the time 6:10 rolled around I would have lost my window of opportunity to be out the door by 6:30am and back by 7:00am, so there really wouldn’t be any point to setting it early in the first place, and I should just enjoy sleeping until 7:00am when the mayhem of getting to the ball field would start. That was until the text from my running husband came through at 9:07 last night that read “running tomorrow?”

As CEO of the ‘after 8 club’, I wasn’t even sure if it is light at 6:30am… it’s not really. At 6:28am  I made my way to the end of my dark driveway in my fabulous new runners where I met my running husband Chris. The goal was a quick 5km, and quick it was.

Chris dominated the conversation this morning because I was far too focused on gasping for what little air I could wheeze into my lungs.  We hit our halfway point MUCH earlier than I usually do when I am out by myself. We paused briefly for a quick slug of water and turned around for the return trip  home. I usually try to run back quicker than I run out but this morning I wasn’t sure that I would even be able to maintain the pace at which I ran out at.

Thank goodness for the downhill start of the run back, it gave me just enough reprieve to catch my breath for the last hill. I hit the crest of the hill and thought that I might vomit, minty thoughts…it passed.

We rounded the second to last corner and was now unable to talk.  I knew I was less than 5 minutes from home, I could do it, I know I could.  Chris was telling me a story about breaking his ribs in a hockey game and waking up hours later  in a strange room maybe his coach’s house ( that sounds bad, but it really wasn’t), seeing pictures of people that he didn’t know, I think, I may have been slightly delusional.

We came around the last corner,  I told Chris that I could make it home from here if he wanted to pick up the pace, he said that he would run me home.  I think he thought that I may collapse in the ditch if I was left alone. For last the 100, who am I kidding, for the last 50 metres I managed to pick it up slightly (I hate leaving anything on the table) and when I passed my mailbox I came to an abrupt stop. I said goodbye to Chris, it came out as “buuuuuuu” and he said “thanks for kicking my ass”…his ass?