Dust in My Brakes and The Missed Session -- What Do I Do Now?

Forgive me, running gods, for I have missed a session.

I was supposed to start the 4th week this afternoon, but I had to miss out.  My very old Volvo station wagon, complete with the faded bumper and scratch down one side, was partly to blame.  When we were off for Martin Luther King day on the 19th, I took old Velma in for her 135,000-mile checkup.  In addition to all of the regular stuff, like changing the oil and topping off fluids, Velma had to have new rear brakes, pads, and rotors.  Ouch.

The next day I noticed a faint whistling sound as I was driving to work.  Then it got louder and was accompanied by a hum and a squeak.  Man, I thought.  That car coming up behind me is in bad shape.

Yeah, there was no car behind me.  I was the one in bad shape.

I drove Velma back to the dealership before school the next morning and my best-friend-Bob (that's what I call the service manager at the dealership because we've spent so much time together over the years) said the mechanic had figured out what the problem was.  He may have used more technical language, but some thingamadigger on part of the engine whatchamacallit had either come loose or broken altogether.  I can't say for sure.  Whenever my best-friend-Bob talks to me of mechanical things, my eyes glaze over and I hear sounds like fingernails on a chalkboard.  I really appreciate the effort he puts into his explanations, but they clearly have no meaning for me other than THIS IS GOING TO COST YOU AND THANK YOU FOR MY FAMILY'S SKI TRIP THIS WINTER.

Anyway, he had to order the part and said it was not a big deal to fix, he'd call when he had the new whizbanger, and that it was perfectly fine to drive until then.  So Velma and I squeaked along to work and tootled around for several days.

David (the husband) was nice enough to take my car yesterday to have the flibbity-gibbit replaced and then texted me to say that Velma was fixed, meaning that she (sadly) would not be able to have any more baby Volvos.  Haha!  Well...she is pretty old.

Then today, imagine my horror when, after getting about halfway to the boys' school -- and more than 30 minutes away from mine, I heard a familiar whistle...and then an oddly recognizable squeak that turned into full-blown squawking and screeching by the time I pulled into my school's parking lot.  I was pretty sure that Velma's stitches had come loose.

My best-friend-Bob, whose number is on speed dial now, said to bring her back in this afternoon.  The only problem with that is that my school is a late school, meaning that we don't dismiss until 4:00 and it's about 4:20 before I can leave.  And that's on a good day.  In order for someone to look at my car, I had to have it there by 5:00, and it's about a 30-minute drive to the dealership.  I was pushing it to get it there in time for a mechanic to look at it, and the thing that irritated me more than having to take my car in for the third time in eight days  was the fact that I was going to miss my training session.

It's like I don't even know myself anymore.

Anyway, after a test run and a quick date with my-other-best-friend-Thomas-the-mechanic, the problem all came down to dust and grit, a little bit of which had gotten stuck between the brake pad and whatever is next to the brake pad.  The brake?  The rotor?  The spark plugs?  The spare tire?  I really have no idea.

By 5:20, I was on my way to our older son's basketball practice and once again GIDDY because, hello -- indoor track around the basketball courts!  I was back on track (literally) for my training session.  I even beat David and the boys to the school gym and was already changed by the time they walked in, at which point David said, "I need you to go straight home.  Duke (our nine-year-old yellow lab) got sick all over the kitchen right before we left.  I cleaned most of it up, but you've got to go check on him."  (Oh, and finish the clean-up.)

I don't blame him at all for pushing that one off on someone else, and he had certainly taken care of the brunt of it while trying to get two children ready and out the door to practice on time.  I'm really not complaining about that part.  And if Duke, the sweet yellow angel, was sick I didn't want him to be alone.

But, oh-my-stinking-heck, I missed my session.  There was no chance of getting it in after supper and the boys'  bedtime because, um, well...it's cold and dark.  I'm not necessarily afraid of running around our neighborhood at night because let's face it.  If anyone made the mistake of coming after me, I swear they'd return me quicker than you can say that's one mean woman.  But David sort of frowns upon my roaming around at night, so I let it go.

What to do?

I haven't run since Saturday afternoon, so now I have three consecutive rest days hanging over me.  It's not like I've built up that much stamina, and week 4 calls for me to run a few five-minute stretches.  That's not a lot, I realize, for most people, but I know that the first day of this week will be a struggle.

The next opportunity I'll have to work in a session is Thursday afternoon.  Should I just repeat last week's plan this Thursday and Saturday and then pick up with week 4 next week?  Or do I go for broke and try to do week 4's plan this Thursday, Saturday, and Sunday?