I guess I did need a big slap of a reality check. There was nothing wrong, the only thing that changed that I had pulled my 6 year out of camp for a couple weeks to spend some “quality” mom and son time. 

      This is the week that I needed to run most, but didn’t cause I had the kiddo. 
No running on Sunday, my birthday, but I did kayak where I learned about new muscles for the next few days. And that my body is officially one year older and heading towards that stage of my life where I pop a Advil every 3 hours. 
Monday: Tense. My body hurt, my patience was weaning, and I needed to run. I was also hormonal. VERY. 
Tuesday: More tense, more pain. Kid was winey. I found relief in a chiropractor and Simpsons marathon. Mother of the year. 
Wednesday: Full sharp teeth were out. I broke down in the car silently behind sun glasses. MIND you, nothing was wrong, except I hadn’t run and it was that time of the month. I cried all the way to work that night. Where I got a little relief of a 2 mile run. 
Thursday: This was the day that I convinced my son that he was going to ride around Green Lake so I can get all hopped up on endorphins. He was hesitant, being new to the “no training wheels” side of biking and really wanted to go back to the car. I egged him along around Green Lake. He crashed into a very nice lady, where then he got a handle bar in the tummy. He cried and I gently convinced him to get back on so we could get the eff around the lake. 
We did, he stopped crying, and was proud of himself. I was glowing in sweat and all were happy. 
Friday: I realized how a) I am addicted to running. b) my kid is a trooper for putting up with my Cybil behavior. c) so is my husband d) sometimes you just need to cry for no good reason. 
Saturday: A glorious 12 miles. All is well in my world.