So you know how I was going to take The Toddler out for a 'jog' on Monday afternoon? Ya, well that didn't happen.
Shocker I know.
BUT! I did get an ambitious hair up my chubby pooper and dug out the stroller last night.......before the Torture Session (aka Bootcamp). I totally get extra points for that or something, right?! Right. Now, mind you, the stroller probably hasn't been used in like months. Mainly because its been a frozen tundra here lately, and there's no need to expose the babe's sensitive skin to that chilly jazz (and I'm not talking about my child here. Me. It's all about Me.)
After I strap her little butt in and I finally get the damn Nike Running app to synchronize it's shit to the satellite and we head off. stupid satellites.
The loop around my neighborhood is about .5 to .6 miles long, so my goal was to do 2 laps. I mean, I know I can be a badass and power through 3 miles on the conveyor belt of death, but pushing a stroller......on a sandy, gravel, craptasticness road, with a nearly 30lb toddler attached, is a WHOLE other story. (Yes, THIRTY pounds. Child weighs as much as a 3 year old. And she's only 18 months. And still demands to be carried everywhere. Which I'm happily doing because that'll help with the Batwings. Totes Awesomesauce. **I was being sarcastic about it being awesomesauce, in case you didn't pick up on that**)
So away we go. I race.....and I use that term lightly....down the driveway and head around the loop. All the while The Toddler is leaning so far forward (to see the tire spin fast), that I'm pretty sure she's going to topple over and take me with her. So I'm reaching around the front trying to reign her back in, I'm still running of course, along with trying to jump over dog shit, beer cans, and other paraphernalia littered along our glorious road. Finally, I just give up. If Miss Sassypants is going to fall out of the stroller, then fine. I'll just deal with it then. mother.of.the.year.
We get about 1/4 of the way around and man, I'm hurting. I mean, my legs are on fire. They feel like the stumps of elephant legs that are stuck in quicksand.
Preach it Sista.
But I push through, like the semi-psychotic fool that I am. And I make it about .4 miles before I'm pretty sure I'm going faceplant the concrete and leave my child motherless in the big scary wilderness. I slow to a walk and actually catch up with some neighbors that I haven't met yet. Praise Baby Jesus for a distraction!!!!! Since I spent about 10 minutes being a little Chatty Cathy.....maybe or maybe not on purpose.....I didn't have enough time to go back around. So sad.
To make a long story short, I plow up the drive way and drop Dillybean in her high chair and zoom off to get my ass kicked by the Queen of Hades.
Good, grand, and wonderful. I'm a rockstar. Three cheers for me.
Fast forward to later that night. I'm sitting on the couch and my dear, sweet, loving husband pipes up and says, 'Hey, was it difficult pushing that stroller around?'
Ummmmm, YEAHHHHHhhhhhhhhhUUUUggggghhhhhhh. Duh. Jeezzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.
'Well, did you realize that all the tires were flat?'
'You mean you ran around all that way with flat tires?!?!'
Never would have occurred to me to look at the tires.