For the past couple of months it feels like everything I do is about running.  Timetable.  Meal planning.  Laundry schedule.  Everything.  But here’s the kicker – I’m not running.

My latest run on Strava was optimistically called “Trying to start a habit”.  Given that was a month ago, it clearly wasn’t much of a success.  Truth is, there’s been a lot of other stuff going on.  I’m at the end of a college course, and so assignments have had to take priority in the evenings and at weekends.  Add the normal tiring elements of work and a toddler, and there wasn’t a lot left.

Does he even own any normal clothes?

But still, the alarm is set early enough for long runs – inevitably causing aforementioned toddler to decide it’s time to get up.  The requirement for me to be on toddler duty is based on a running plan.  Meals are meticulously selected so that spice does not precede a long run.  Each day the laundry basket must be checked for favoured running kit, and the dirty dishes pile checked for recovery shake bottles.  And weekends?  They’re for researching race routes to decide if there are toddler-friendly cheering points.

In short, I am currently a running widow.

It will change.  My college course is almost done.  Home life is adjusting to the idea of Ben running so much during the week.  And everyone knows that attack is the best form of defence.  Time to dust off the trainers then…