Spring break, Spring forward, or Something

Rob and I moved to Denver from California in 2004. For over sixteen years I have known the time difference between Pacific Standard Time and Mountain Time - one hour. That's not a hard number to remember. On Wednesday, however, this pedestrian fact slipped my mind and I was convinced that my 3:00pm (PST) Zoom call would take place at 5pm my time. As I headed out the door for my afternoon walk around 4:00, my subconscious mind broke through the mental fog with a frenzied flag-waving: "Check the time! The call is now, you dummy!" So I raced to the computer to Google "What time is it in California?"

A new low, my friends. Not only did I have to Google the present time, but I narrowly escaped missing the family Zoom call. I abandoned the walk, slipped behind my desk, and pretended I was on top of things. (I didn't fool anyone, partly because I confessed within the first five minutes). Has my mind gone on spring break with the boys? Blame it on spring break, spring forward, or on the year anniversary of COVID life. The newly extended daylight strikes me like a slap in the face, as I stagger around every evening bleary-eyed, wishing it was dark so I could just go to bed.

I'm tired of making decisions about the health and well-being of my family every hour of every day. This re-entry period when vaccines provide hope is almost more difficult - mentally - than extreme lockdown.  We let our youngest go on a small mission trip to southwestern Colorado with church this week, despite some fear of his contracting the virus en route. Last summer we pulled him from both his mission trips, but I couldn't cancel again. He was excited to go, and we needed a break from him sitting at the computer, phone, or video game console at all hours.

Next week our older son heads to a swim meet in Phoenix. All of his big meets since February 2020 have been canceled, and this may be the only chance he has to race at sea level, for... well, ever. Despite lingering fears of infection, we said yes to that trip, too We're tired of saying no. I don't know if we're right or wrong, but we had to make a decision (yet again) and this one seemed like a no-brainer. Which is a good thing, since that term accurately describes me at our present moment.

We're all hanging in there, clinging to hope yet concerned about letting go too fast, too soon. Something about the emotional fatigue, the decision overload, has temporarily short-circuited my brain and required a great deal more coffee. At least it's Friday, and I've almost adjusted to the time change. When I can't blame spring break or spring forward any longer, I'll just have to fire up those neurons and force my brain to work once more.

Marathon Angst

"You will not want to watch that movie tomorrow night," said my husband with narrowed eyes. "I've been here for the past few months, remember?" It was Saturday night, our down night for the weekend, and Rob was trying to convince me to watch "Firewall" with him while I bargained for an early bedtime and the promise of a viewing on Sunday night. I had my weekend run Sunday morning and had to wake up at 5:15 to fit in 11 miles before church. Rob knew that my fatigue on run days would overcome my ability to watch a movie - suspect on the best of days.

We failed in the movie-watching department though I got my 11 miles done. The run seemed ridiculously short compared to the 18 miles of a week ago and to the 20 miles that await next Saturday. I have moved into a strange sort of marathon-training Twilight Zone where 10 miles is a short run, bright pink KT tape wraps permanently around my feet, and the study of electrolyte replacement occupies my free time. When Rob comes to bed (an hour or so after me) he finds me with my feet pre-taped for the next morning, covered in my running socks so the tape does not unravel, and ready to jump out of bed at first light to start gathering miles. Not attractive, but far more comfortable than sleeping in a jog bra and running clothes, as I did when we were camping. There is just no way to discretely get run-ready in a tent at 6:30am!

Fashion issues aside, I've been feeling selfish about the marathon. Training occupies a lot of energy, time and mental focus. Nightly I ice my feet and my knees and reflect that I've passed the point of balance. But we only have three and a half weeks of hard training left, and as a friend observed, "This is obviously important to you." It is. I have been blessed with health and good luck so far in the training process, and I want to prove to myself that I can do this. When I tell people about the marathon they often say, "Oh, I could never do that," and I recognize the words and the tone from the times I responded this way. I shut the door, not wanting to acknowledge the possibility....because then I might have to do it. So now that I have opened the door I deeply desire to walk through it. If I can finish this marathon, what else could I accomplish? And how many more folks might realize that they can do it, too?