Don’t Cry Over Spilled Milk

Everyone knows the old saying, “Don’t cry over spilled milk.” When I was younger, I basically took this to mean, “Suck it up and stop crying about things that aren’t important.” Then, when I was a new mom, I spent hours upon hours stressing over how much milk my baby was getting. I breast fed, and then would try to pump to get “extra” and build up my milk supply. It was exhausting. Being in an overly emotional, sleep-deprived state, when I spilled my first bottle of breast-pumped milk, I cried my eyes out. And from then on, whenever I heard anyone say, “Don’t cry over spilled milk,” I wanted to look them in the eyes and say (in a very deep and serious voice), “Have you ever spilled breast milk?…I didn’t think so.”

Anyway, this blog isn’t about spilling milk. So I will move along.

Last night I had to do my first round of 800’s for my BQ marathon training plan. My finishing time goal is 3 hours and 30 minutes. That’s an 8:01 per mile pace. This is about 15 seconds per mile faster than I trained for last year. (**Also, last year I didn’t really know what paces I should be running at during most of my training runs. After a lot of research and combining a variety of plans, I’m being kind of anal this time around with all of my paces.) So, it was on my schedule for last night that I needed to do 4 X 800’s at a 6:58 pace (8.7 on the treadmill). 

My plan was to do a mile warm up, then do four half miles at 8.7 speed, with 3 mins 20 seconds recovery between each one, and then do a mile cool down. I have been terrified of this workout since last Thursdays tempo run. Thursday’s are always a challenging workout…

Well, during the day yesterday I text my sister and told her to let me know how her 800’s went, so I’d have a little heads up on how miserable it was going to be for me. I was SHOCKED when she text me and said they didn’t go how she’d planned because of a crying, screaming baby. So she had to get them done as quickly as possibly and she did two of them at a 9.0 treadmill speed and the last two at a 10.0 speed. WHAT!?!?! WWWhhhhhhhaaaatttt?!?! 

She assured me that they were easier than our treadmill hill work we had done two weeks ago and that I would have no problem with them. I was not so sure.

Fast forward to 5:30 pm.

After the usual after school whirl wind, which included a trip to the barber shop for my 10 year old, I managed to get the boys fed with chicken, mashed potatoes, and green beans. My husband wasn’t going to be home until 6:00, so I prepped my favorite sweet potatoes for us (because I was doing a 4 day clean eating challenge) and threw them in the oven. I then hopped on the treadmill to rock out my 800’s.

Being a somewhat competitive, “If you can do it, I can do it, and I SHOULD do it” girl, I decided I would go ahead and run my 800’s at a 9.0 instead of an 8.7 like my plan said. That lasted for ONE 800. After the first one, I realized that there was no way I could run three more at that pace, and I slowed it down to an 8.7 speed.

After my second 800, I heard my husband get home. So, I hopped off the treadmill, grabbed the sweet potatoes out of the oven and offered to fix him his plate. He declined saying he could handle it, so I got back on the treadmill to finish up my workout. 

It was really tough. I knew it was going to be tough. I had mentally prepared for tough, but I hadn’t mentally prepared to think that maybe I could do a speed of 9.0 and then realize that nope, I could not.

But, there was no time to dwell on it because my family was waiting for me to eat dinner, hit the shower, and then head to our high school’s varsity basketball game. And I was a starving, sweaty mess.

I told Liam to go turn the shower on for me (our house is almost 200 years old and it takes the water FOREVER to get hot), and I headed to the kitchen to load up a plate of chicken and my favorite sweet potatoes! I went to the stove and saw an empty pan….hhhmmmmm…weird. I made A LOT. So I checked everywhere else they might be and still couldn’t find them. Finally, I decided to look in the garbage. Yup. My sweet potatoes were in the garbage.


Not a lot of tears, but enough to make someone say something like, “Don’t cry over spilled milk.”

I was sooooo upset. But I’m pretty sure it wasn’t just because my beloved potatoes were in the garbage. It was a combination of things. I was exhausted, starving, and feeling a bit defeated about my workout. And at that moment I realized that it’s okay to cry over “spilled milk.” Because it’s always so much more than that. There is always a breaking point. And when that comes, whether it’s from your dinner in the garbage, a long line at the grocery store, not being able to find your car keys, or any other “little” thing, it’s okay to have a little cry and then move on. 

My “moving on” last night meant saying “forget it” to my clean eating challenge for a minute and pouring myself a big glass of chocolate milk. It was delicious. 

So, whatever your “spilled milk” is, just know that it’s okay to cry over it. But then move on and go back to chasing those dreams.

Sparkle.Pounce.Cry and Move On.


2 thoughts on “Don’t Cry Over Spilled Milk”

  1. You rocked it again! Good for you! I am forever so proud of you – your accomplishments for sure, but also the way you handle things when they don't go exactly as you want them to and the way you share your triumphs and your challenges with others in such a candid way. We all need to hear that even people who seem to have it so "together" have their moments of frustration, self-pity or whatever. The difference is how we react to those moments and how/if we move on. Keep your eye on the prize; shed a tear if you feel the need; then pat yourself on the back, dust yourself off and get back at it. You can do it!!

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