No, not that kind.

I’m continuing with “running” theme. Although, when you look at the supposedly deleterious effects of masturbation from this page–”nervous system damage, neuralgia, pains in the system, premature death, rheumatism, spinal weakness/problems” — they correspond pretty well to how I feel after a good run.

Since becoming a mom I’ve run less and less. I do have plenty of alone time, actually, but there are so many other things begging for my attention when Aitch is otherwise occupied: namely, those things that pay the bills. I’ve tried to get creative about combining responsibilities–running with Aitch, running with Dog, running with Aitch and Dog — but it hasn’t worked out the way I’d planned.

I’ve had some OK runs with Dog and/or Aitch — actually, much better with Dog, as he doesn’t become bored and whine after a mile. Dog is a fantastic running companion as long as he’s off-leash, but to find a place that will accommodate us both I have to run in the woods. I used to love trail running in high school but am not always in the mood for it now. It requires a lot of attention to the surface, usually involves hills, and carries a greater risk of a sprained ankle than running the flats. To do a quick couple of miles on streets around the house, I have to put the unfortunately-named Gentle Leader on Dog. (”Take me to your Gentle Leader.” “Our Gentle Leader will take us through a guided meditation today.” “We are preparing a display of synchronized calisthenics for Gentle Leader’s birthday celebration.”) Dog pouts and tries to rub off the collar by placing his snout in the crotch of any human in sight, but it prevents him from pulling without causing any pain at all. I would highly recommend it to anyone who tries to walk a baby and a dog at the same time.

It makes the run better, but not necessarily effortless. Dog and I are both still scarred from the Great Bridge Incident of ‘05, in which I had planned to run with Dog down to the beach (about 3 miles) to meet a friend and her dog. After a nice beach walk, the friend would drive us home. I had not reckoned on Dog’s fear of non-traditional road surfaces. He gets wiggy around boat docks, boardwalks, wooden walkways, and anything with a grille. As luck would have it the barrier island is connected to the mainland by a metal bridge, which wigged him completely. Dog hunkered down, quivering, and refused to move a step in any direction. When I tried to pull him along, he tried to slip his collar, potentially disastrous given the traffic on the bridge. Luckily my friend drove by a few minutes later, spotted us, and picked us up.

Anyway, between the Dog’s neuroses and the running stroller, which pulls to the left, I find that running with an entourage is exercise, but it’s not really running. It doesn’t fulfill the purpose of a long contemplative engagement with one’s thoughts. This weekend I came to the realization that if I want to carve out some alone time for a run, I’m going to have to do it during an hour when no one is expecting anything from me. That’s right: I need to become an early-morning runner. So for two mornings in a row I set the alarm and hit the pavement by 6:00 a.m. Did you know it’s dark at 6:00 a.m.? No, really. Completely dark! So I had to run in the gym rather than outside, but I still managed to get it in. 4 miles yesterday, 3 today (my morning to wake up with the baby; I was trying to get home before Husband was forced to get up with him, because although Husband is gracious about it, there’s no reason he should lose sleep just because I choose to run). We’ll see if I can sustain this for more than a few days.

Benefits to running early: It’s finished. The rest of the day is mine. I don’t need to think about, worry about, or plan exercise for the rest of the day. And I only need to take one shower, as opposed to two.

Cons to running early: By 9:30, the joints that had run effortlessly at dawn had stiffened to the point where it took me one Mississippi… two Mississippi…three Mississippi…four Mississippi to rise from a seated-on-floor position to chase Aitch, who was already halfway up the stairs trying to avoid picking up his Legos. By 10:30, I was starving. By 11:30, I was already sleepy. By 12:30, I was recalling events of the early morning as though they had happened days ago, in that jet-lagged way. By 1:30 my body temperature had seemingly dropped to 96 degrees Fahrenheit, for no apparent reason. And of course there is the whole, well, getting-up-early drawback.

Who will win…tired-of-being-fat me, or just tired me?