Finding Time.

If you wait for ideal conditions, you will never get started.   It's true.  Ideally, I'd jog leisurely down a nature trail while Hugh Jackman (naked) playfully chases me.   Butterflies dance and flit across the sun dappled trail.  Deer raise their heads in reverence as we gracefully move through the early morning.  We giggle and laugh and frolic, then fall down on a bed of lush grass at the base of a waterfall.  We sit for a moment to regroup, resting and just being gorgeous.  By the end of the jog I have lost 20lbs and gained a 6 pack.  Ideally.  

I'm not working with a nature trail. Or Hugh Jackman.  I have a dirty shed, a treadmill and a baby.  Oh, we once had a nature trail routine going, and it was glorious.  But, someone decided the jogging stroller is akin to torture.  The woodland creatures convened and decided a screaming 10 month old is not conducive to the serenity of the forest.  After 5kms of pushing a screaming baby through a lush, tranquil oasis, not even my runners high is enough to soothe my nerves.  

So, this is what we've got.  When I say dirty shed, I mean dirty shed.   You will note the tool box, scooter and other miscellaneous junk my beloved other half has crammed into this small space.  It also smells a little like ass. Ok, a lot like ass.  Look how cute we are at 6:00am 

 

When you've been up since 4, 6:00 is practically noon.  Henry ready for a nap, but is hell bent on fighting it.  He gets set up in the shit shed with a pancake, a pile of raspberries and some water.  

(I feel the need to add a disclaimer.  I was not in fact running a 67 minute mile- though, it felt like it.  The GPS on my cell phone was enabled, but I was on a treadmill... So this C25k app is a dirty liar, I'm a lot faster than that).  

By some random miracle, Henry is content playing with the raspberry container for an entire 15 minute period, which I do think is a new record.  I manage to keep him content for an extra 10,by making up a crazy treadmill dance and singing "End of the World" by REM as loud and fast as I can, over and over.   I do not feel fine. I feel like stabbing Michael Stipe, and if we're being totally honest- I don't really know any of the words. I'm basically pant-shouting out the last word of every line, then screaming the chorus through gasps. H thinks its hilarious, of course.  We will see how funny it is when I pass out and he has to change his own diaper.  

By the time the last intervals come, Henry is starting to lose his shit.   The raspberry container hits me in the back.  I spend the 5 minute cool down carrying him, and all is well. 

Couch to 5k Day 1 is complete.