I’m tired.  I’m so tired.

Last week after working all 3 days of the holiday weekend, I had just a couple hours of quiet time before being launched into a 23 day stint of having my kids Every. Single. Day.

Their dad is litigating a trial in Florida this month so he really isn’t able to come back at all.  And so here we are in the midst of that. And I am exhausted.

Now, don’t get me wrong, I love having them full time.  But as any parent knows, kids are a lot of work.  And as any single parent will tell you, there is something to be said for shared custody.  It’s called…getting a break.  My break will come in July when the kids go on vacation with their dad for a week, but until then, pure exhaustion.

The first week of summer vacation went by with a flourish.  We did trips to the pool, a visit to the library, and our “adventure day” at the zoo.  We’ve done play dates here and play dates there.  On Friday while I worked, the kids spent the whole day at 6 Flags with friends.  And even with all that activity, the “I’m Bored” Board that we created has been getting lots of use.

But training doesn’t exactly stop because of the custody arrangement and a lack of school.  My workouts have been fewer and farther between, but I’ve been making them count.

On Saturday, I had a sitter come bright and early so I could help coach the Fleet Feet trail group.  I ran a 6 mile loop with my “Grizzly Bears” and then, since I was there and had some time, I continued on for several more miles.  Today while the kids were at camp I rode 50 miles on the bike, followed by a 3 mile run, in the heat of the day.  So, I guess I can’t blame my fatigue entirely on my children.

On Saturday, while I was running, I felt great.  I felt amazing.  I felt like I could run forever.  As Brian so aptly pointed out to me, there is something to be said for rest.  True.  With the exception of a 1.5 mile run around the lake with Ethan the day before, this was my first form of exercise since my run Monday evening between dinner with Brian and the kids coming back to me.  My legs were fresh and I was so ready to tear up the trails.

After a nice, easy paced 6 mile loop with my group, I went on to complete the long course.  One of the girls from Rosie’s group joined me for a couple miles.  I distinctly remember talking about how trail running is how I forget about the numbers and get back to my love of running.  Sometimes you just have to leave the Garmin at home and run, but not necessarily when you need to get in specific mileage.  About that time, Andy hooked up with us from a different part of the trail.  We ran to the stairs and when they headed up to the bluff, I headed out into the flats to cover some additional ground.  Andy warned me that it would be muddy, he was right.  I only went about a mile in and decided it wasn’t worth fighting the clay that was causing me to slide around uncontrollably.  So I turned back and at about 9.5 miles my Garmin beeped. “Low Battery”.  What?!  It was charged to 100%.  Eh, no worries, I should still be able to finish off this run before it dies.  Or so I thought. ..

I got back to the stairs and started the climb.  I was not terribly disappointed that a large group of Boy Scouts was coming down the stairs, forcing me to slow down as I ascended the narrow stairway.  About halfway up, I picked up the pace to the top.  I took in the view for a second as I caught my breath and then continued on along the ridge.  I kept checking my Garmin, it hadn’t beeped again so I thought surely the battery wasn’t too low.  I stopped at one of the overlooks and took a quick picture.  As soon as I started running again, I glanced at my Garmin and found the screen blank.  Mocking me.  “Really, Lindsey?  How is that no Garmin thing working out for you now?”

And the calculations began.  Last I had checked I was at 10.25ish.  And from where I was on the bluff, I had just about a mile back to the parking lot.  I got back to the car, left the extra weight of the watch there, and took a Gu and an extra swing of water.  I was estimating that I was at just over 11 miles at that point.  I needed to do 16.  But I felt ok about going a little further.  So I decided to go back to the 6 mile loop I had done earlier with the Grizzlies.  I wasn’t as familiar with that part of the park and Andy had asked us to take down the pink ribbons he’d used to mark the trail, but I was pretty sure I could figure it out.  A couple times I was a little unsure that I was on the right path, but then I’d see a landmark that would remind me, Oh right, this is where we were when I was telling Sheila the story of being rescued off a mountain in South Africa.  (Yes, that has actually happened.  It’s a story for another time.)

Eventually I made my way down the hill, across the road and headed for the creek.  I wasn’t super stoked about the creek crossing the first time since it was still so early in my run, but the second time through, with only a mile to go and the heat rising, the cold creek water felt amazing.  I wound around by the creek on Grotpeter Trail for that last mile and finally slowed to a walk in the parking lot.  It was weird to look at my wrist and just see flesh where the Garmin would normally be.  No stop button to hit.  I estimated a total mileage somewhere around 17.5.  It was one of those rare days that I felt so good I wanted to keep going.  But since my sitter needed me to be home so she could go to a wedding, I was out of time.

Not all workouts come that easy though.  Today I did a 50 mile ride.  My longest solo ride ever.  My second longest ride ever.  Second only to the 56 miles I rode during the Racine half Ironman last July.  Something about being in a race setting makes it easier to go the distance.  The crowd, the adrenaline, the support crew at the aid stations.  And all the other athletes doing the race with you.  But today, I was on my own.

I set out on my bike in Rockwood Reservation and within the first mile I was already making excuses to cut my ride short.  It went something like this…I don’t really need to go 50 miles today do I?  45 should be plenty.  40 would be good.  30 is still ok, I’ll stop there.  I could just do 25, or 20, get in a quick run and then have a nice relaxing afternoon at the pool.  Wait…WHAT?!  Lindsey, c’mon!  Get with it.  You’re in this for the long haul today.  Who knows when you’ll have another whole day to do this.

I was strong for a while, and then the mind games would start again.  Then I saw a mama deer and her baby.  I was constantly being pelted by the butterflies that seemed to be raining up from the pavement.  I almost crashed when a squirrel darted out in front of my tire.  I chuckled at the muskrats hustling across the road.  I could have done without the dead armadillo sighting.

By that last mile, my back hurt.  My feet hurt. (I desperately need new cycling shoes)  My face was salty and gritty.  I was slimy from sweat mixed with sunscreen.   My shoulders were covered with bug guts.  Gross.

I changed my shoes, exchanged my helmet for a visor, ditched my gloves and locked my bike to the car.  And then I took off for a run.  First mile, sub 9 minute pace, I was so happy to be in running shoes.  Second mile, I was going up a slight grade so I was a little slower.  Third mile, the shade was gone.  I needed water.  I wanted this to be over.  I actually ran past my car with a half mile to go.  The desire to quit and just jump in the car was over-powering.  But I kept going.  One foot in front of the other.  Why?  Because my heart is stronger than my body.  And my mind.

Why do I do this?  Why do I torment myself with training for something as grueling as an Ironman?  Because life is hard.  Because even though I know that my legs are capable of carrying me anywhere I want to go, my mind is the thing that shows up with the doubts of “can you REALLY do this?”  And that’s when my heart has to prove that it’s the strongest part of me.

I say it all the time, what I lack in speed and ability, I make up for it with heart and determination.  I train for marathons, for triathlons, for an Ironman because it reminds me that no matter what I can keep going.

I will get through these 23 days with my kids.  And then it will be over.  And then I’ll wake up and they’ll be in college.  Sometimes the hard parts seem like they will last forever, but they won’t.  And deep down I know this, even when my brain tries to make me doubt it.

So, that’s why I train.  To remind myself that my legs are strong, but my heart is stronger.