It's somewhere between 11:30pm and 3:45am. It's day 4 of family Florida Christmas vacation. I'm doing squats in the dark of our bungalow on the beach holding Penelope who cannot, will not be anywhere but my arms. But only if I am standing. I am praying to all the gods to let me be able to gently just rest her little body...down...into the pack n play...just like this...waaaaaahhhhhh uppa uppa uppa maaaaamaaaaaaa!! Squat, squat, squat. Maybe some warrior pose with light side to side rocking? Or maybe I can just sit down in that chair...just like ...this .....waaaaaahhhhhh uppa uppa uppa maaaaamaaaaaaa no no!!!!
Finally, just before 4am, queen toddler allows us to fall asleep in bed with her pushing me to the very edge of the king sized mattress. Little hands and arms and legs somehow all touching me. At 6am she's up again. Poking me in the eyes. Saying eyes, eyes, eyes. Even then I'm proud she can correctly identify that part of my corpse...I mean body. I text my dad to come take this monkey to early bird breakfast. She's swept away babbling about poo poo and I fall asleep for two hours happy I'm not on poo poo duty and that her grandfather requires no sleep and that her chubby cheeks are wowing the snowbirds at the diner down the street.
When I wake up I tell Owen to take the bed (he's been sleeping on the couch with a wicked cough). I drink yesterday's coffee black and cold. Eat a bowl of instant oats. Then go trolling for a sibling to accompany part of my long run. My brother is game and we set out into the humid morning. I'm doing 16. He does 10. The last three are death by sleeplessness and boredom and Florida humidity.
But every day and mile matters. It's setting in that I'm going to run the marathon I've dreamed of running for over a decade, and that I have 6 weeks to get ready. It's scary and thrilling. I don't know what to expect. But the ride will start soon and I'll be on it.
