I guess she was starving hungry and couldn't sleep so I made her a quick breakfast, got her set-up with some "homework" (isn't that what all 4-year old's do at 4-something in the morning?), and jumped on the treadmill. I ended up running 2 miles and felt wonderful. Yes, I could have run longer but with Plan A being abandoned, dear hubby "volunteered" me to take darling daughter to school cutting my "extra me" time out.
Ironically, I am not bothered by this. I believe things happen for a reason. My left piriformis is being pesky, as it always is before race day. I know I can run the 13.1 miles come Sunday and am trusting that the cosmic forces are ensuring I don't overdo my runs up until race day. Or at least, I must believe that to avoid getting frustrated, discouraged, and doubtful.