Tonight was truly unusual. For the first time in my life, I ran for over twenty minutes straight, and kind of liked it. Instead of the typical ending, with cramping and burning lungs and tired muscles, I felt energized. I felt like I could have kept going. (Although I didn't. Because I wanted to maintain the good feelings and be excited for my next run.) I felt accomplished and strong and cool. I wanted to call up my missionary brother and Dale and my Dad and tell them I could be a runner too. I finally understand why people do it. I'm hoping these good feelings continue, because this is the first time I've been this optimistic about an exercise program, because I might actually like doing it, instead of making myself do it. Yay.
In the meantime, in order to temper my feelings of success and remind me that there are many things I am not faring as well in, Madeline is continuing to fight me on the sleeping thing. She doesn't understand the correlation between good naps and happy baby smiles the way I do. To that end, she refuses to go to sleep when she's tired and cranky until she literally drops off from exhaustion, sometimes in mid-squeal. And she doesn't believe in sleeping through the night, although Grandma tells me that if I let her cry it out for a few nights, she'll get the idea. The problem is, I'm a wimp. And Jessie's wimpier than I am. At this very moment, Madeline is sitting watching tv with Dad even though I tried to put her to sleep almost half an hour ago, because her squeals of protest and whimpering quickly turned into shrill screams of betrayal and ultimate hurt, which probably would have broken the coldest heart. Ah, my daughter. I intend to initiate the crying-it-out plan this weekend, when Jessie and I have the luxury of napping in shifts over the weekend to make up for the sleepless nights. Wish us luck. This is way more complicated than term papers.
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