I truly did not intend to leave you so long with silence.
The past week has been filled with such highs followed by repeated, heart wrenching lows.
We're currently in a holding pattern of anticipation and wonder. Waiting for news from multiple fronts, some with the potential to be most excellent and some with the potential to be devastating.
I'm not interested in speaking to these possibilities. Maybe soon.
First one and then the other van took a proverbial knee, at one point leaving us with a grand total of zero functioning vehicles.
Barnahbus, our Pontiac, had gone to and been returned from the mechanic, "fixed". Until she flat refused to start. "It's the battery," SweetPea was told by the guy from the mechanic*. "Get a jump and have it tested."
One jump start and a tow truck driver who shook his head and said "that sounds like the starter" later and Napa Auto Parts declares the battery solid and that "it sounds like a problem with a starter."
If you've been following long enough, you might suspect that the starter is what I said it was all along. It's always acted like a starter issue, even though the mechanics declared that it was somehow related to our deceased air conditioner.
The jump start kept her humming for a few days while we await her next appointment, right up until Sunday, when she refused to start again.
Bartholomew, the Ford, threw up an engine light on the way to the gym Monday morning. Obviously I was not the only one reluctant to go. I did, however, drive to the gym and then back with the engine light on.
Because I was pretty sure that didn't qualify as an excuse.
Three days at the mechanic later and they're still not entirely sure what the problem was. The reason given for the engine light was checked and cleared, the light switched off and then the van was driven and driven and driven. Nothing.
Maybe she just really did not want to go to the gym on a Monday morning.
Well who could blame her, really?
Speaking of going to the gym, I did end up creating an actual training plan that should, in theory, carry me through the California International Marathon.
In reality, however, I am still slow as fuck (technical term) and still legitimately afraid that I will not be able to make the time cutoff. While it's still plenty of time off that I may, theoretically, be able to build a bit more speed, I secretly fear that there's no way I'll be able to get fast enough in time.
What's more is that the second half marathon I'm signed up for (the Lake Natoma Four Bridges Half**) also has a time cut off that I'm pretty sure I'm not going to make.
Because this all seemed like such a good idea months ago, and, of course, I had plenty of time!
And then on Sunday I had one of those awful, hard, ridiculous running experiences where I spent most of the time (and I'm slow, so this is a long time we're talking about) wondering why in the hell I'd ever though I could do this in the first place.
Rationally I know that running is highs and lows. That it's a mental game. That I have to get my head in the game. That sometimes running isn't pretty or easy or fun.
Right now, though?
Right this very minute?
I'm tired and sore and afraid and anxious.
And the only thing I can do about that is gear up and prepare for Triple Tuesday.
One foot in front of the other.
*We got the extended car care plan when we bought the Pontiac. I know, that sounds totally stupid, right? But we pay a $50 deductible for any covered repair and, so far, everything's been covered. That includes the time they replaced the entire fuel system and the time they replaced the entire steering system and braking system. Yes, really.
**Although, looking at last year's results, plenty of people finished out to the time I expect to. I wonder if the time limit is a new thing?