on not saying no

I almost didn’t run yesterday.

The night before, when realizing this no-school Montuesday had messed with my schedule and the week was packed with meetings and the weather was turning hot (really, summer? You wait until after Labor Day, after school starts, to get your second wind? Gah.) I recognized the only definite opportunity I would have to run would be Wednesday morning.

Sigh.

Now, dear reader, of all the beautiful routes available around here, running from my house is not my favorite (by a long shot).  It’s a lovely road with wide shoulders that runs along a lake, yes, but it’s also a busy rural arterial with rolling hills and blind curves.  And it’s a FAST road – the posted 35 MPH speed limit is widely ignored.  The only time traffic is reasonably quiet is first thing in the morning, and only on Sundays does “first thing” extend past the 7:00 am commute.  However, there's not time to drive to one of my preferred routes on weekday mornings when there's work and school to get to.  So, a weekday morning run means a run on my street.

Anyway.  Back to Tuesday night.  Super-busy work day, left early for the back-to-school open house to meet teachers/see friends/hug fellow moms and catch up a little.  Home to get kids fed, get showers, set out clothes, pack lunches.  Then bedtime, except…can’t sleep.  Brain won’t stop.  AAAUGH.  Up to couch with a chamomile tea latte and the laptop for an hour, then back to bed. No luck, still awake.

fine.

Right about then – 1:00 am – is when I said “no” to that planned 5:45 am run.

Dozed a bit over the next few hours, but when the early-run alarm went off I slapped it down.  Twenty minutes later when the normal alarm went off I slapped it down, too.  Realizing the futility of laying there any longer, I got up to make a large pot of coffee and drown the night’s sorrows in it.

You can still run, my mind whispered.

I looked out the window.  Only the tiniest line of light on the horizon.  I’d forgotten – it’s September, and the sun doesn’t rise at 5:00 am anymore.  I had not prepared for dark.

No. too dark, my inner grouch shot back.

Washed a few dishes while the coffee perked.  Wandered toward the couch with a cup in hand and lingered at the window.  Starting to brighten.

Sigh.  No.

Sat down with the laptop.  Not much new in the five overnight hours since I last checked.  Looked at the clock – 6:07 am.

There’s still time…and if not now, when?

…and before my grouch could shut me down I got up, changed, grabbed my son’s reflective vest and whispered to the kids that I’d be back.

It was chilly and perfectly clear, the entire sky was  light but the sun hadn’t yet crested the horizon.  I startled a young deer in the driveway and watched it bound across the meadow with her sibling. A slight haze of fog hung over the bottom of the driveway, but the road was clear.  I headed toward a marker about a mile away.  The mirror-still lake reflected the apricot sky and trees on the shoreline and the mountain on the skyline.  Just a few cars passed me as I ran – as well as four school buses headed out to pick up their charges for the first time this year. A few cyclists commuting with their panniers nodded and waved.  Near the finish a line of cars passed, held back by the one in front driving the posted speed limit.

I could not believe I almost let this go.

The rollers were barely noticed, the run felt easy at a good clip.  The vest was comfortable to run in, my shoes stayed tied, my key didn’t jingle in my pocket – none of the usual annoyances.  I didn’t stop running until I was back in my driveway.  Almost perfect.

Back at the door, my final reward:

 

To think, what I almost missed.