Triumphant

It has been a long time since I ran five miles, and the last time I did, it was February and I was training on a treadmill in a dank fitness room that resembled a storage space. Lil E gave me the thumbs up every time I yelled out over the raunchy songs blaring through my earbuds that I'd hit another mile-mark.

Then I hit some bumps -- an injury that led to throbbing muscles in my calf, a case of lazius gluteus, doctor-orderd time off, general blah-ness, more of that calf fucker, loss of athletic mojo and a little neck-cranker of a car accident. But I also had moments of really hitting my stride. Today was one of thsoe days. This afternoon, after spending an hour debating between a nap and a much-needed run, I just ran.

It was hard, really hard, for 3-1/2 miles. Then the pain in my legs eased, the creepy old dude on the bike who kept catching up to me and nodding weirdly veered off, the back-and-forth that makes me wonder how in the hell I will get through this 15K in just two weeks seemed to melt off, not completely but just enough.

Perhaps it was because I told myself I only really needed to run 3 miles. Maybe it was warmed up muscles or that lovely little running high oozing over my brain. Whatever it was, I let it be and I went. I went 4, then 4.3, then 4.58. Five was just around the corner and I raced after it.

It wasn't a marathon and only a few hours later, my body aches, my calves are complaining and I am so tired. But I feel like, even though I'm weeks behind in my training, I can really do this thing. I saw my body perform and I felt that warrior spirit return.I've missed that.

There's a lot work to be done. Tomorrow, I'll see the sports doc and the day after that, I will be back out there going at it again, maybe with creepy bike guy right beside me.

With so much going on in my head, my schedule, at work, with this boy and this man, I want more of what I've only had in bits and pieces over the last eight months and I want it just for myself. For tonight, though, I'm shamelessly  and triumphantly raising a toast of lime selzter, sushi and ibuprofen to myself.

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One boy, one day, four hats (and a headband)

This boy occasionally whines about shopping, but the truth is that he loves it. No matter whether it is a hipster boutique tucked in Wicker Park, a "fancy lady store" in Lincoln Square or Walgreen's, he somehow always finds something he loves, something he neeeeeeds, something he absolutely must try on, dance around in, and use as a prop to make me laugh. It works.

On this day, we stopped by some shops near my old high school stomping grounds of the Century Mall. We lingered too long in the Halloween section of Pier One. I said a silent thank you to Urban Outfitters for their waif-targeted women's wool outerwear that made my boy very, very happy. And then we went home to do some evening yoga. Lil E was dressed for the part in each locale.

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This one was brought to you by the letter B

On Wednesdays, in between the chaotic rush that looks more like the ten feet in front of the stage at some crazy ass show than it resembles kindergarten pick-up and Tiny Tigers class at Tae Kwon Do, we stop off at Starbucks. There, the nice barista lady always greets Lil E by name and we always settle in to the big chairs with coffee (me), chocolate milk (him) and miniature scones (him, and me when he's not looking) to talk about the day and do homework.

I love that calm in between the two storms. I love that there's no room for cell phones or work emails or anything else between us other than the Jolly Phonics notebook, a Ziploc full of markers and kid scissors and glue sticks, and our over-priced, highly sugared snacks.

Today, we centered on the letter B. He wanted to write out brontosaurus, bunny, bike and several attempts at his dad's first name. But like Electric Company has never completely left my brain, I kept thinking, baby, boy, break, blessed.

His hands are covered in scone icing and marker (I didn't even tell him to use the b-b-brown one this time...he's just that damn good) when we say goodbye to the barista and head over to the martial arts studio. He's ready to jump-front kick and knife-hand strike, but I am more settled, my ever-on-fast-forward brain is still. All of that in arguably some of the most important 45 minutes of the week.

P.S. Have you read this brilliant post over at Motherhood Uncensored? Kristen''s busy with a brand new baby while I'm left bawling at everything she said here that I couldn't get out myself. Yes, I know she has four children and I have one. Still...you know, the very notion of any number of kids growing up is emotional. Anyway, I don't link out nearly enough anymore to the posts I've read and kept open in a window for days just to inspire and remind me of how lucky I am to be in this business of spilling guts all over your screen. So here goes. Affirm my decision to do this more often.

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