I could eat. Or, I could run.

Over a year ago, I wrote this post.  I'd had one of those parenting from hell type of days.  A shopping trip gone horribly wrong.  Today, I had another one of those parenting from hell type of days: The very first skating lesson for both of my kids.

It seemed like such a good idea: waiting until both of my kids were at an age that I could put them in a lesson at the same time.  That's one of the benefits to having kids close in age, after all.  They're close enough to the same stage that you can put them in things at the same time.  Utter convenience.

Or not.

Perhaps, instead, it means one child falls down half a dozen times and decides to quit and cry the rest of the class.  Perhaps the other child is actually doing it, but starts freaking out each time he falls, causing himself to fall more, and therefore freak out more.  Perhaps, I'm left feeling like the one incompetent parent with the only two screaming children on the ice.

And, a couple hours after this draining experience, I get to drop both kids off at preschool.  Thank god.  A breather from the whining and crying.  And, the first impulse is to finish off the Halloween candy.  Instead, I sulk for a while.  Check facebook.  Waste time.  Avoid.  Then, I go run...

And run I do.  I took my music this time and avoided looking at my garmin.  I just went.  Not a long run.  (I have my second spin class tonight, which will kick my butt, so I don't want to be tired going in.)  But a solid run.  And a fast run.  I went at a speed which, on paper, should have been really hard to maintain.  I wasn't leisurely jogging, but I also wasn't pushing as hard as I could.  I think the main reason I held the speed is because I didn't let myself obsess over what it was.

And afterwards, I felt better.

Chocolate doesn't do that.  Not for more then a couple minutes.  This lasts much longer.