I know how you feel, kid -- especially if it's before 8 a.m.
Trying to find the ideal time to run is pretty much a crapshoot for me. I usually find myself on the treadmill after 10 p.m., mainly because the day has disappeared before I know what's hit me. I've tried exercising at all different times of day, hoping to hit upon that sweet spot where I'm fully energized, raring to go for miles and miles, crossing that finish line in my head to imaginary applauding fans. Indulge me my delusions of grandeur, I'm a desperate stay-at-home mom.
One of my coworkers once informed me she got up to go to the gym at 6 a.m. every day before work. She enthusiastically babbled on about how by the time she got to the office, she was refreshed and worry-free, knowing that she didn't have a workout hanging over her head. I tried the early-bird method for about a week, setting my alarm for the crack of dawn. I'd meticulously set out my workout clothes the night before, since I'm pretty much in a catatonic fog before that morning caffeine starts coursing through my veins. I'd pull on my sneakers as soon as the alarm went off, the same way I used to do when the whistle blew at Ukrainian boot camp (more on that in a future post). After six or seven days of barely functional, pathetic workouts, where I was basically running with my eyes closed, I started pounding on the snooze button again. That was the end of that.
You'd think the midmorning would be a good time to get my juices flowing. By then, I've eaten, had my coffee, shipped the kids off to school/camp (if they're going to school/camp; if they're home with me, the whole day is shot until bedtime), and am as up-and-adam as I can possibly get. But since I'm so focused, I start doing all the things I have to do in my "real," non-warrior life. I make my post office/store/dry-cleaner/school runs, check e-mail, do whatever freelance work I have on my plate, apply for more freelance jobs (a hustler's work is never done), do any schoolwork I may have for the week, and before you know it, it's lunchtime. Can't do a workout then, since I'm ravenous from all my morning activity. OK, no biggie, I'll chow down a salad or something and then work out in an hour after I've digested my meal.
An hour after I've digested my cheddar-smothered cheeseburger, I hit a debilitating midafternoon Wall of Fatigue that makes it impossible to even get up off of the couch, let alone hit the pavement. I'm convinced I have some kind of cortisol imbalance that wreaks havoc on my internal clock, leaving me weak and weary during the day and hyperactive at night, so this is not. a. good. workout. time. for. me. For the rest of the afternoon, I cram in whatever work/schoolwork I can before the kids get home.
Early evening rolls around, and I feel better physically. A great time to do a workout. But now it's time for the household crunch: Make dinner, clean up the kitchen, do homework, get the kids bathed and dressed for bed, pack all their backpacks and lunch bags for school/camp for the next day, do the long-ass bedtime routine (and those of you with kids know what that's all about), camp out with one or both of them after storytime to talk about their day, and end up unable to remove my body from whatever bed I'm stuck in until about 9 p.m.
From 9 till 10, I'm usually paralyzed on my bed or the couch, trying to summon up whatever energy I have left, until I'm finally able to drag myself downstairs or outside. I do the best I can, all the while thinking about the work I have to do afterward until way past midnight. And the routine I have to start all over again bright and early the next day.
I know I'm missing my 30 to 60 minutes of peak time somewhere in there, and maybe I'll hit upon it one day soon. But for now, if you're looking to psychically train with me, turn on the 10 p.m. Fox News broadcast and we'll have a good run together.
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