Tuesday, January 24, 2012

Know When To Fold 'Em

Add a winter coat and take away the smile and red polish.
After giving a father, who is also a taxi driver*, an aggressive and well-deserved hand gesture in front of the kids' school today at drop off, I should have gone straight home and retreated to the bedroom for a day of rest.  

Because flipping the bird at a taxi-driving asshole who cut into traffic like he was trying to get a fare from downtown Chicago to O'Hare during rush hour traffic -- instead of just getting his son 300 yards north to the front door of the school -- could have been God's way of telling me that today was going to be a struggle.

But I didn't listen.

To start with, I'm sick of my kids' school being the epicenter for assholes.

We are supposed to be a community.

We're all in this together.

We are the village that it takes to raise these children.

But in the winter, or during any kind of weather event that involves precipitation, that school is a giant clusterfuck of self-absorbed rudeness.  Cutting off people to secure a parking space (in the illegal space that is reserved for school buses!) 4 feet closer to the door.  Not allowing parked cars to pull into the street  from their legal parking spot. Double parking at crosswalks, which creates extraordinary danger for any pedestrians, including our children.

Listen honey, if my kids don't melt from walking a 1/2 block to the front door, your kids aren't going to, either.

I'm sorry. I just needed to get my kids closer to the door.
Oh! Mercedes bitch?  I'm. Going to. Take. You. Out.  

And you'll never see me coming.

It all went downhill from there. I headed to the Y with a belly full of nothing but coffee. My plan was to spend 30 minutes drilling in the pool and then hop onto the track for a 30-minute 'flush' run.  Since I hadn't eaten anything, I chomped down two Shot Bloks in the locker room before I hit the 6-lane.  I figured that would be all I'd need.

Big mistake. 

Caffeine + gelatinous carb cubes do not make for a solid pre-workout meal. I was so nauseous, that I left the pool in less than 18 minutes and staggered back to the locker room where I spent three minutes gagging into my locker (while I texted my trainer to tell her I was gagging into my locker). I fled the Y with sopping wet hair and some pretty intense goggle imprints on my face. Back at home, I choked down a scrambled egg (my trainer advised me to get some protein, fast) and napped. Sort of.

But the day wasn't over! I geared up and went outside for my simple, 30-minute flush run. I was going to redeem myself.

Strike. Fucking. Three: I'm out.

My Garmin is a piece of crap.** It took anywhere between 8 and 10 minutes before the satellites located me. And once it turned on, I seemed to be running pretty fast, which made sense since I'm not good at pacing myself without gadgetry: it's possible that I was running faster than I should be running.

But I wasn't.

Because the watch is all satellite-ly challenged, it's impacts the pace. By the time I left the outdoor track, the Garmin told me I was running a 4.24 min/mile.  

"Look, Ma! I'm Kenyan now!"

I'm not.

I stopped the watch and forced myself to run the remaining 3/4 mile home. I was overheated, out of breath, and I fell short of my 30-minute goal by 9 minutes. 

Back at the school, retrieving my children, The Daughter complained that I parked too far away.  

I was less than a half block from the school.

I don't want to be here right now. I don't want to be sober. I don't want to be awake.  I don't want to be the adult. And I certainly don't want to be the parent. I want to kick and punch and stab things that deserved to be kicked and punched and stabbed.

But ... I have to be here. I have to be here as a sober, alert, parent-like adult. I'm going to take a hot shower and remind myself that even though BOTH of my workouts today weren't what I wanted them to be ... I didn't skip either of them, so I should consider it a win. Or at least, a tie.

Then I'm going to eat my feelings.  In chocolate. And cheese.

* Idiot Taxi Driver/Dad, please don't let this post keep you from contributing to our fundraiser that I'm co-chairing in April.

** Addendum - 1/29/12:  I stand corrected. There was some sort of solar shower on Tuesday -- lots of people had all sorts of issues with their satellites. I did some sort of satellite reconfiguration, and things were better for my 1.5 hour run on Saturday. Altho, it still takes a hella long time to locate the satellites.


  1. Solidarity, sister. My workout was the best part of my day as well.

    It's got to be something in the time of year or where I am in my training, but people in general, and certain ones in particular, push all the wrong buttons with me lately. (My letter to the DJ hinted at that, I think.)

    I agree with your plan to deal with it - not a chess guy, but chocolate cures all.

    Good job getting the workouts in. Something is always better than nothing.

    P.s. - the * and "kenya" comment made me laugh.

  2. A hot shower, hot soup, a snickers bar, one super long (and creepy) whiff of husbands Magic Hat (Not Quite) Pale Ale, more Dog episodes (i'm a junkie) and 63 minutes of knitting brought me back to a better place.

    Tomorrow has to be better.