Today, I was supposed to run 5k at the Portland Race for the Roses. I've been training for months now. And while I've had set backs of illness and injury, I was really, really, really looking forward to it!
But... I didn't get to go run today. You see, Bad Pants had a work crisis. Lots of things were going wrong. First, his office scheduled an off-site hoorah get together sort of thing for this week, starting today. (Did I mention that today is also the day Doodle flies in for her very short spring break visitation and we haven't seen her in 7 months AND his vacation got cancelled at the last minute for this?) So, because BP had to be in downtown Portland and not at the finish line with the kids, I had to scratch the race. Instead, I kept my 10 yr old nephew overnight so his mom, whom I challenged to run with me, could run since BP was supposed to have him as well while we raced.
No, instead, I stayed home. BP went and did some big presentation that his former boss (who quit suddenly last week causing chaos) was supposed to do. Instead, I decided to be a good wife and support my husband and his quest to climb up the corporate ladder. Because, you see, more money equals more stuff to do here at the farm- which means more exercise or a personal trainer and riding lessons. Or something like that.
I've been disappointed since Monday. I've not made any effort to work out since last week. More, I haven't make any effort to run since hearing that the doc didn't want my partner to run due to her newness to exercise and recently achieving control over her diabetes in the past 6 weeks. I mean, if I wasn't running, what was the purpose of training? I'd have to walk the whole blasted thing to be a good person and stay with my teammate because I challenged her. That wasn't how this was supposed to go! So, instead, I let myself go.
After the race this morning, the visiting-racing fam brought down my race packet and freebie stuff I would have gotten if I had ran today. The cute hat says "Finisher 2010". Only I'm not a finisher. I'm not even a starter. I'm disappointed that I didn't run. I'm feeling guilty that I've let everything slide since I knew I wouldn't be running. I didn't do anything to earn the shirt or the hat or heck, even the chap stick. Yet, here I am with a ton of really awesome stuff I'd be so proud to have had I actually raced, walked, skipped, stumbled, something. I didn't do it.
I don't deserve it.