Faster than a speeding... treadmill?

Yesterday was my first long run to begin training for the Cincinnati Flying Pig Half-Marathon on May 1st, which I am not yet registered to run in but am determined to do. It was a little breezy, and since I haven't been running outside up until this point, I decided to take Emery to the Y and run there. One of my dear friends at work tipped me off to the Y's amazing toddler play room, which is so hidden you practically need a secret password and miner's helmet to find it. I was excited to try it out.

Her nap ended about 1:20, and the toddler room closes at 2:30, so I dressed as quickly as I could and rushed her off to the Y, which is about 10 minutes away.

We get back to the playroom, which is a glassed-in room that overlooks the McDonalds-playplace-on-steroids room for older kids, and she started to get the glazed-over look she sometimes gets when I'm dropping her off somewhere, new or otherwise. I told her I'd walk around the room a little bit with her, all while the extremely nice baby sitter, Ms. Charlotte, is trying to ease Em's transition into the room.

Then the lady turns to me and says, "Mom, you do know this room closes at two o'clock, right?"

"Two?" I squeak. "I thought it was 2:30?" She shook her head and explained that at that time, they would take the toddlers down to the nursery, (which, I must say, is a depressing room that would stifle any child's imagination. It's one of the major reasons I haven't wanted to take Emery with me to workout; I can't bear the thought of dropping her off in a such a depressing place).

I give Em a quick kiss, promise to be back very soon, and take off running to the bank of treadmills so I can take off running. By this time, it was 1:38.

Now, I should preface this next part by saying that even thought I've run two half-marathons already and even though I ran a full marathon once, in the past few months I have done next-to-no running, and it is as if I am starting completely over. I've been taking the tortoise route to running lately, which means I plod steadily through my run but without too much exertion.

Not yesterday, though. I jumped on that treadmill and plowed my way through the two miles I needed to log. It wasn't nearly as bad as I thought it would be, even though I was running about 2-minutes-per-mile faster than I have been. I finished the two miles in 18 minutes, running a 9:13 pace, before stopping the treadmill and riding it off the back. I couldn't even wait for it to stop completely before heading back to the toddler room.

By this point, finishing by 2:00 had become as much about that "can I do it?" mentality as it was about saving Emery from the depressing nature of the baby room. I rounded the corner and there she was, walking like a good little girl in line with the other little ones, heading my way.

I wiped the sweat from my brow and held out my arms. "Hi, baby! Mommy ran really fast so I could come get you!"

I could have run ten miles in ten minutes for a hug like that.