The kind of help I need

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I’ve spent the last few days running around doing errands so that I keep my head on straight throughout this week, unlike last week when I could be found crying into a massive sink full of dishes at 8 p.m. on Friday night.

This week I vow to stay on top of everything in order to not succumb to end-of-week fatigue.  It is not a serious affliction, of course, it’s just that I don’t do well when sleep-deprived.  All logic goes out the door.  Single moms everywhere, I bow to you.  I only do it Monday to Friday due to our schedule, and even then MFP has to wipe me off the floor first thing on Saturday morning and assure me that I have two days to collect myself.  (I exaggerate, of course.  Well, kind of.)

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So in addition to not allowing the cupboard to be emptied completely by Thursday afternoon, and to avoid a fashion meltdown on Saturday when I have multiple events to attend, I got myself out in the world today to peruse Target for deals.

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Someone please remind next time that I don’t do well with Target wear.  None of it fits right.  Everything seems to be a little off.

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And the only shoes that are not five feet off of the ground and put me at risk for an ankle injury are ill-fitting as well.

Oh well.  I left empty-handed.

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And now let us move on to running, which I am able to conquer each week, no problemo. 

I don’t have a very super-scientific training plan.  I was hanging with the Hanson’s but then I got spooked about the long run being too short.

Mainly, I try to do some sort of speed on Tuesdays, which entails watching Peter Krause for a few miles, like from 5:30 a.m. until 6 a.m., and then quickly making up a workout up on the back of, say, a Costco receipt.

It’s called being a self-coached runner.  It’s fun, yes.  Is it productive?  I doubt it.

Yesterday I ran twice, and I have no idea why, but it was quite fulfilling. Not in an egotistical way, but in a way that I realized that I have a bit more in my legs than I have had in the past.

And I attribute that to taking things slowly this time.  To allow the training to unfold without forcing myself into a strict plan.

Now if I could force myself to find a cute dress that doesn’t remind me of bad ‘80s fashion, I would be all set.

In other words, I need a coach and a stylist.

2 thoughts on “The kind of help I need”

    1. Yes, I feel like I am sometimes all alone in telling it like it really is sometimes. I get tired of reading about everyone’s perfect life. Is it just me? Anyway, thanks for reading and we’ll miss you in Boston!

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