All our eggs are in one basket

Several hours ago, I was sitting down to the computer to post a message, and Chad was once again enjoying the September Sunday afternoon ritual of men everywhere: football on TV from morning til night. When suddenly the cable and internet both went out. Which is what happens when you sign up for high speed internet through your cable company. Chad immediately came bounding up the stairs to see what I'd done on the computer to break things, and I likewise accused him of creating some sort of TV short fuse that also konked out the computer. Normally we'd let the rest of the neighbourhood call the cable company to complain about the blackout, but today I bet we were among the first callers. It took a few hours but it seems that we're back up and running (and well rested, since all three of us took the opportunity for a nap.)

Nobody deserved the nap more than myself (if I do say so). This morning was my dreaded half marathon at Point Pelee. Although my summer training schedule started out strong, it deteriorated by August, and I was completing my long runs but skipping many of the shorter ones. When faced with the choice of either playing with Liam or going running, frankly, I'd usually rather play with Liam. Of course this probably did make my life more difficult today, but I finished in a respectable time of 2:05:something (I'm waiting for the official results to be posted - I didn't stop my own watch until 3 hours and 47 minutes had elapsed, and I am pretty sure it did not take me that long.) Thanks for the well wishes everyone - I am happy to report that I am still very much alive, although I am having some serious trouble walking right now. No kidding, every bit of me really hurts (which I think I owe to Dana, who ran me in and goaded me into a finishing kick that would never have happened without her there. On the upside, it quite possibly bought me a minute or two.)

So here I am, fresh as a daisy early this morning (do I look stressed out? - I had to wake Liam up extra early, feed him at home, feed him again in the car before running - lucky for me the race actually started a half hour late, because this all took much longer than I'd anticipated) - and then stinking more than I have probably ever stunk in my life, post-race. It turned out to be a warm day and the route was not nearly as shaded as I'd hoped. But it made it all worthwhile to see my little gaffer cheering me on at the finish line. During the last 3 miles of the race, which were particularly painful, I kept trying to tell myself that if I could survive 23 hours of labour and birthing a child without an epidural, then surely I could run for another half an hour. Unfortunately, you don't get something nearly as wonderful as a baby when you do something like this. All you get is a t-shirt.