Tuesday, June 13, 2006

Not much to report

Rob hit the nail on the head in the comments when he said that I never expected to write the words “only 51 miles” all together like that (he also managed to return my slacker jibe from several months ago). Well, I guess it means my running has come along quite a bit in the last year. So far this week doesn’t feel any easier than the previous ones; it’s mainly the long run that will be significantly shorter.

I had to get up early yesterday for my 11 miles run, and still felt very tired. One of my resolutions for this training cycle was to get more sleep. I have improved in that respect, but not enough to be satisfied. It’s just not that easy to go to bed at 10 pm consistently, and even if I manage I usually end up reading a book instead of going to sleep immediately. I guess there is still room for improvement.

My quads are quite sore, which I guess is an after effect of Sunday’s strides workout. I haven’t had such sore legs in a while, and in a typically perverted runner’s way it feels good, because it reminds me that I’m doing a lot of work. I guess the soreness will be gone by tomorrow, I did a slow 5 mile recovery run today, and those runs usually clear up any tiredness in my legs.

Cian delivered yet another masterpiece of destruction the other day. Niamh and I were watching a film and naturally assumed the kids to be asleep peacefully. Not so, Cian must have gotten up very quietly and sneaked into the guest room, where he found a box full of window paint. These are held in little bottles, which he proceeded to squeeze onto the floor one by one. Then he obviously had great fun in mixing all those lovely colours with his hands – and feet. Eventually he decided he had enough and came looking for us and tell us “I made a big mess”. He didn’t exaggerate. I should have taken a picture, because the sheer amount of paint on the floor was quite unbelievable. Niamh took the boy into the shower to scrub him clean, and I did the same with the floorboards. After an hour or so of hard scrubbing the room stopped looking like a war zone, but of course he also left his imprints all over the doors and sinks, and toilets, and anything else, and I doubt we will ever be able to completely remove all those marks. By now we have learned to be rather philosophical about these … incidents. We had to.

I hope Social Services aren’t reading this blog, or they’ll surely pay us a visit.

12 Jun: 11 miles, 1:29, 8:05 pace
13 Jun: 5 miles, 46:32, 9:18 pace

12 comments:

  1. Thomas, the amount of patience you have with your kids is unbelievable. I don't think I could remain as "philisophical" as you while scrubbing the house clean in the middle of the night.

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  2. Between the patience you display with your kids and the hard training you are doing you should seriously consider an ultramarathon in your future!

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  3. ... if not the ultramarathon, perhaps your own window washing and floorboard cleaning service? ;)

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  4. Don't know if I can try to imagine your faces or the mess... And I thought latin kids were the worst!

    How nice to look back and feel you've reach your goals!! You are just doing it!!!

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  5. Good job on the patience and the running, Dad!

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  6. I'm afraid to say that my 2yr old is heading in the same direction too. I just disovered that she found my checkbook, attempted to write out every one of 'em...to whom I don't know. I can't read her writing yet(scribbles).

    Yes, it's a challenge to get to sleep at a decent hour. Nice run there.

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  7. Cian is going to be a famous genius artist some day :)

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  8. Your kid IS going to be an artist, yet I am with Mike - I'd be fuming like hell!

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  9. Man, it just does not stop eh? But what can you do Thomas. You do what you gotta do.

    And to think you find time to run. Good for you.

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  10. omg, now you're frightening me!

    you should win a 'patient dad of the year' award.

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  11. I think you need to channel Cian's energy into something productive. I have no advice to what that could be though.

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  12. Your tales are bringing back memories of when mine were little. The two oldest, were just toddlers then. I put them down for a nap and took one myself. They woke up without waking me, crept into the kitchen and decided to make cookies.

    They poured flour, sugar, koolaid mix, molasses and I don't know what else into a big pile on the carpet in the dining room. I found them both stirring it up with wooden spoons. The oldest smiled and said "Cookies, Mom". All I could do was laugh.

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