Sunday, 31 August 2014

Horror week of non-training

Last Sunday, I was elated.

I'd run 30km - further than I've ever been on foot before; and I wasn't even particularly sore.

I felt great.

Right up until 9.21pm on Tuesday, when I got a text from my son's father to say that his Russian girlfriend was arriving two days later and would be moving in with him. I've been expecting it of course (we've been separated for over 18mths), but I didn't expect to have just two days notice.

I'm not bothered about him moving on and not jealous about them being together. I wish him well and hope they are happy. But it is complicated when there is a child involved.

William's father thinks I should trust his judgement and release my 2.5 year old son into the care of someone I don't know for weekend visits. I have a lot of well-founded reasons for being concerned about his judgement.

I don't want to go into the details here. Let's just say that we fundamentally disagree on when and how children should be introduced to new partners.

I had my last 5 weeks of training mapped out to the day. I was so pleased with myself for getting this far without needing time off for injuries. I didn't see this coming, although I probably should have. Suddenly, everything was thrown up in the air. It looked like my weekend long runs would be history and potentially I would have to pull out of the event because I would need to be here to look after my son.

Things really did look bleak for a while.

Thankfully, I did not smoke a cigarette. Phew!

But I did no runs last week.

I drank more wine than I'm used to, now that my body's a temple!?!?!

I ate cake, chocolate, biscuits .... anything sweet that I could get my hands on.

All of which just made me feel worse and worse.

I discussed the matter endlessly with friends, professionals, relatives. By Friday afternoon, I really was in a desperate hole. Really not the kind of hole I want to feel myself in again.

And then suddenly, just before bedtime, the final answer came to me and it was like a weight lifted and I could finally get up off the floor, and shake off the virtual kicking I'd been taking for years.

I spent yesterday settling into my new ideas and got up this morning ready for my first run in a week. I only did 8kms, but it was a really really good 8km. Not fast or anything, but strong and confident, and deeply pleasurable.

There's no more wine and no more chocolate in the house. Mum has volunteered to stay and look after my son rather than coming to watch me in Berlin. I'll move work around a bit so that I do my long runs mid week. I'll get a bit of extra help in from friends and family at the weekends in particular.

I will do the best I can for my son. I have lots of options. I won't be backed into a corner and forced into a course of action I am deeply uncomfortable with. I will set and hold boundaries and keep control over my life.

Everything's going to be fine.

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