So this morning was the Resurection Walk at Christ Community Church. I thought that it would be a great opportunity for providing Ivan with a good foundation for the reason that we celebrate Easter. Now, Ivan is two and I must admit that the 45 minute wait in line pretty much did us in for the day. When we finally got into the trail and saw the various aspects of Jesus' trip into Jerusalem, the Passover feast, and the empty tomb, Ivan was absolutely disinterested. He ran away, threw sticks in the river, and wanted to be carried for the full two hours.
At home, Ivan took a nap and then went to practice his swimming. Ivan swam like a champ today, rolling over and kicking and trying to do little strokes. He finally began scampering away from me and hurling himself into the pool over and over. When Young Sloan starts hurling himself into the water like a million errant cannonballs, it is time to head home and call it a day.
Here is the point in my story where my day becomes a record of guilt. When we came home from practicing Ivan's swim, I was supposed to get on the bike and then get in a Gilad workout, but I was utterly exhausted. Why? Why was I so tired? For the most part, I have just been sitting around on the couch since then and I plan on crawling into bed very early. Nice day off, I guess, but unintentional.
Fourteen or so mile run tomorrow.
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