Oh man! This little tiny run with my young son just about killed me. He took off like a rocket today, and I was continually trying to slow him down. he kept drifting toward 9:30 pace, and I wanted to just go 12:00 pace or slower. I am feeling pretty sick today. I'm not sure if I am really sick or if it is all just morning sickness, but it took quite an effort just to get out the door. But my son was bursting with energy this morning. He saw a butterfly and started chasing it, he saw a bunny, and he wanted to sprint to where he'd seen it. He kept saying that we should do a 100 yard dash. Ughnnnn. The whole world was full of exciting things from his perspective, but from mine, everything was just nauseating.
When I first started running with Sam over a year ago, he was only 6, he would occasionally whine that it was too hard, that he couldn't do it, or that it was too far. Now a dramatic role reversal. Me: "Ughn, slow down, I can't do it." Sam: "Just do your best, Mommy." Me: "Groan, not so fast..." Sam: "You have to believe you can do it." When we got home: Me: "Ug, that was awful!" Sam: "Just think how good that was for your body!" I don't think I'm going to run any more today, unless it is to the bathroom to yak.
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