I’m well into what I call my “race for a PR” half-marathon training. I’ve been amping up to 40-45+ miles of running per week with enjoyable easy runs, miles of strides, nearly panic and vomit inducing track workouts, long runs on low fuel, and long tempo runs at paces faster than I ever thought I could maintain. I’m honestly enjoying this training like you wouldn’t believe. But, to fit everything in, several times a week my alarm goes off just after 4:00am so I can prep and be running by 5:30am.
Since I get up so early, my bedtime has been earlier and earlier. I’m generally not a night owl anyway. Prior to starting this training, 10pm would have been a late bedtime for me. But these days I find myself crawling into bed much earlier than usual.
8:15pm rolled around last night.
“Well,” I told F. “I’m going to bed.”
“What?” he was shocked. “You’re going to bed????”
“Well, yeah. I’ll probably read for a few minutes. Or play Hanging with Friends. But I have to get up early tomorrow for my long run,” I explained while wondering to myself – why did I need to explain this to my husband? My husband who averages 80 hours of work per week, who works 30 straight hours a few times a week, my husband who has been perpetually sleep-deprived for the past 5 years. Surely he would understand!
“Well, I guess if you’re going to bed, I’m going to Kevin’s for Whiskey Night,” he told me.
Was I upset? Not in the least! Bed was calling my name!