I’m starting to think about MdS as a restful vacation with a bit running thrown in. I’m not underestimating the desert...
Best laid plansLiza
More often than not I am sad about the clutter in our family car. Not so this morning. I will be forever thankful for the random bath towel in the backseat. Asa and I were driving Eliot downtown for a meeting when Asa mentioned he wasn’t feeling well. I figured he just wasn’t excited about going to the YMCA with me afterwards — and I ignored him. “OK. Wow, look at that big truck going by.” We traveled along for another few minutes before Asa said, “My stomach hurts.” The boy had been running around the house all morning and I almost didn’t turn around to tell him that he’d be fine at the Y’s childcare (while I ran on the anti-gravity treadmill). I did turn around though, and saw that all the color had drained from the little guy’s face. He was light gray. I told Eliot not to get into an accident, unbuckled my seatbelt, and climbed into the backseat.
“Do you feel like you’re going to throw up?”
And then he did. I grabbed the random bath towel and threw it over his lap. Oatmeal with rehydrated raisins everywhere. The color returned to Asa’s face immediately and he said he felt much better. I’m not going to lie, the thought crossed my mind that I still might be able to get my anti-gravity run in. (Don’t judge me unless you have a hundred mile race in August and are trapped in an immobilization boot.) Eliot’s had a heavy work week and he’s needed the family car most days, so it’s been a challenge to workout. We had a dinner obligation later and I wouldn’t be able to run at all now. I was not feeling magnanimous. We dropped Eliot off and headed back to the house for Saltines and grape juice and a viewing of Toy Story from the couch.
And Asa was fine. In fact he was all questions and three year-old interest as I washed the vomit towel out in the bathtub. I was just about to take my running clothes off and change for the restaurant (feeling out of shape and not particularly social) when Eliot called to say that plans had changed. He’d be home at 5:30. Thanks running gods! Those daily gel packet offerings in front of the running shoe alter must be working.