I apologize for the somewhat sporadic posts, but as things go, my life has been turned every which way.  While I was at camp, I got word that my first-floor-condo had flooded when the guy on the third floor went to throw in a load of laundry.  The water dripped (and dripped is the absolutely wrong word for what it did) down and destroyed the building.  Weirdly enough, the belongings were good, but the walls, the floor, the baseboards, everything, just had to be ripped out.

And so there was the mad dash to find a place to live.

And then the mad dash to get everything packed.

And then the mad dash to recruit victims to help move.

And now, I’m here, blogging to you amongst cardboard boxes, trying to eat my breakfast out of a Gladware container because I can’t, for the life of me, remember where I packed the bowls, and even if I did remember, I haven’t put any contact paper down to put them away.  Oh well.  Can’t be bothered right now.

Anyhoo, so in the midst of all of that, the Greensboro Marathon is still approaching, and I’ll be darned if all of this will affect my training.

But I needed to do my long run (10 miles) yesterday, and I didn’t feel like it.  I really didn’t feel like it.  And then, like a sign from the heavens, I checked my Instagram.  And one after another, pictures like this started to come across.

CPT, my camp home, hosted their second annual 5k yesterday.  It’s kind of, no it is, incredible, because you’re talking about kids that came to camp not having exercised in weeks, months, years, some of them.  For them to be over halfway done with camp, and to have run a 5k, is nuts.  Absolutely nuts.

So my whining turned to motivation when I saw picture after picture after picture of my girls, my fellow counselors, and the guys finishing their 5k, some of them shaving TONS of time off from their 5k in the previous year.  With that in mind, I set out on my 10-miler that wrapped up with me feeling accomplished and like I’d shared with my girls, the 5k experience.