The pressure to put in some kind of walk every night has led me to try to do too many things at once. Last night I wanted to start dinner and walk and run and write thank you letters and talk to a friend all at once. Forgoing the friend and the letters for later, I opted to start dinner and run for thirty minutes. Nothing more, nothing less.
Mistake #1 – I asked Kisa to check on dinner 15 minutes into my run. I figured he would come to me if things looked a little sketchy. I figured he could help me out just a little by keeping an eye on things.
Mistake #2 – Assuming Kisa would remember to check on dinner.
Mistake #3 – Ignoring the Julia Child rule of cooking, “when you can smell what’s cooking, it’s done cooking.” I don’t know when I heard her say that or if she ever said it but it’s not my thought so I’ll give her the credit. 20 minutes into the run, as I was nearly the two mile mark, I knew I needed to stop. But, I didn’t.
So, I continued to run. Not terribly fast, but better than I have in recent months. I played with incline and speed, inching both up and up and up in the time allotted. Going faster, getting higher. My legs were confused. They haven’t been pushed like this since before the surgery. Confession: the hurt felt awesome. As the sweat made it’s way down my back and Hell’s Bells rocked in my ears I knew this is what I had been missing. ‘Run for the Hills’ was more than a song, it was my mantra. This run was exactly what I needed. Until I stopped. 2.9 miles later I stepped off the tread and into a cloud of smoke. Wispy burnt curls of black wafted up the stairs. It was much thicker in the kitchen. I’m surprised the fire department wasn’t called. My run was ruined with the realization that I can’t do two things at once. I can’t assume anything.
And since training comes first for the next five weeks dinner will just have to wait.