Revenge of the Bastard

Sneaking out for a four-mile run Sunday morning got me into trouble in more ways than one. Today, soreness is my penance.

Having switched feeding shifts last week, the early hours have started to feel not so terrible. Friday, my extra morning time provided a chance to play my fiddle. Saturday, I just went back to sleep after Baby Viper ate his bottle. Sunday, however, seemed like a good time to run.

I put Little Man back in his crib, making sure he was done being fussy, and kissed Mrs. Viper goodbye. Little did I know that she had hoped to have her own time that morning. I'd be hearing about that later.

The morning was cool, but the humidity foretold the heat and thunderstorms that came later. The only hat I could find to tame my wild morning hair was a winter cap. Otherwise, shorts and a short-sleeve shirt were all I needed.

My route would take me down to my old foe, that old dirty Bastard Garman Hill. It had been quite some time since I last ran up the infamous hill. My pace seemed slow enough to save energy to make the climb, but the intervening month since my last run had drained all my trail-honed hill-running skills. About a third of the way up, my legs said, "No more."

Two more walk breaks were necessary before my run was through. The final tally was an 11:30 mile pace. My calves, hamstrings and quadriceps are all cranky today. That's what I get for being selfish and leaving my wife at home with the baby when she's stuck at home with him all week.

The toughest thing so far about becoming a parent is adjusting to the rearranged schedule. Our time is not our own. Although I've taken advantage of the early hours for some me time, I need to remember to make sure my wife also gets time for herself.