This morning I voluntarily woke up at 4:45 a.m. so I could go for a run. Other Moms who run will understand my dilemma: a hectic lifestyle of juggling work, kids, and other family responsibilities means having choose between sleeping and running. Other runners – Mom or not – will understand that running and sleeping are equally necessary for my physical and emotional wellbeing.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m not a complete masochist. I use some very creative thinking in order to try getting my runs in without having to get up in the middle of the night (or what feels like the middle of the night). Today, however, I had no choice. If I was going to (a) run, (b) get in the distance I was aiming for, and (c) be on time for work, I had to be on the road by 5:00 a.m. Which meant getting up at 4:45.
After all, I think it is reasonable to not want to run in the thunderstorms that were being predicted for this afternoon. And since my desperate attempts to master the art of being in two places at once have come to nought, I could not run at lunchtime and donate blood at the same time.
I had a lovely, lovely run. 7.5km in nice warm weather with just a little bit of wind.
Not a bad way to start a Monday morning.
After my run, I took care to have a nutritious breakfast. During the course of the morning I drank a V8 vegetable juice and ate a banana – neither of which I actually like, but in preparation for donating blood, I needed to make sure my iron levels were up and that I had enough nutrients in me to avoid passing out.
When it was time to go, I took the elevator to the ground floor, intending to get on the subway. As I exited the building, though, I was accosted by a big policeman who was yelling, “Get back inside! Get back inside!” Ridiculously, I offered a lame argument to the policeman.
“But I have to go and donate blood,” I said.
The policeman looked at me as if I had broccoli spouting from my forehead, and said, “Well, you’ll be bleeding a lot sooner if more glass falls off the building.”
Okayyyy. Turns out that a pane of glass had come out of the top floor of the office tower and crashed onto the street about sixteen storeys down.
I took the scenic (read: long) route to the subway and took the train for two stops. Then I got off the train and wandered around like a lost fart until I found the blood donor clinic. I checked in, and as the nice blood clinic man was giving me my paperwork, the shoulder strap on my purse broke and half of the contents of my purse fell onto the ground.
This was turning into quite an adventure.
My medical checks and interview went without a hitch. My iron level was fine. Vital signs were good. No bruises or lesions on my arms. I haven’t had sex with a cocaine addict or been a prostitute.
The donating part itself went well too. The nurse easily found a fat, pulsing vein to use and the needle went in flawlessly. Less than ten minutes later, a unit of my blood was in the bag in memory of Capt. Snuggles, I had a Band-Aid on my arm and I was sitting at a table getting free juice and cookies.
You can only count a day as GOOD when you’re able to get in a good workout and do a good deed.
(Photo credit: http://www.flickr.com/photos/prashu/3359028784/)
