Moana is almost 7 weeks old now, and Scott and I are both ready to regain parts of our old lives back. We can feel a sense of normalcy coming over our lives... in that we are sleeping a little more (she's finally adopted a 4 hour eating schedule at night rather than the 3 hour one she'd been on all along) and our little girl just doesn't seem quite as high maintenance as she was in the first weeks. I'm starting to figure her out and it feels good.
But with that comes an increased desire for me to run and bike and swim. Having taken last year off of racing while I was pregnant, I'm hungry to get back into the swing of things. My workouts feel good. Good enough that I've pushed send on the online race applications for several races next year... and of course with that comes a need for a more structured training program.
Conflict that with Scott's desire to play soccer and surf with his friends. And since he's working all week, the weekends are his only chance to blow off steam.
You all know what I'm going to say now... it's the big question... who gets Saturday morning? I thought we'd resolved it (duh, I do. I'm the one who spent 9 months carrying our child so the next 9 months are mine...) But apparently it wasn't resolved because this week I was informed by my husband that he was going surfing with his friends on Saturday morning. On the North Shore. Which means he'll be gone from 6:00 AM until like 2:00 PM (if I'm lucky and he's nice and decides to come home early).
So I sucked it up and stayed home on baby duty all day today. Being the type A triathlete that I am (and on a mission to regain my fitness), this was eternally frustrating for me. He finally got home at about 2:00 and within minutes we performed the hand-off, and I was out the door for my run. He thought I was going to skip it. "It's really wet out there", he says. Clearly he doesn't know me very well. I don't care about the rain. I'm going. Nevermind the driving wind storm. Or the rain coming at me at a 90 degree angle. Or the flooded roads that soak my shoes (and my shoulders when the bus drives by and sprays me).
I hammered through 10 miles. I was only gonna do 8. Had I gotten to go this morning like I'd planned (and it was sunny) I probably only would have done 8. But by 2:00 I really needed to blow off my own steam. The good thing about running is that 10 soaked miles later, I don't have any more steam. I might even be pleasant tonight.