The Marathon.

So here's my deal.  I'm running a marathon.  This fall.  My first time back.  Since having children.

I was too scared to run while pregnant with Lillian and Grady.  I ran throughout my pregnancy with Dempsey.  Never those long runs though.  The ones that I adore.  The kind where you have no idea how far you've run or how far you have left to go.  You're just running.  Away from something?  To something?  I never know.  I just keep running. 

Then breastfeeding got in the way. I've heard stories of women pumping mid-run.  But  I was afraid I might scare someone with my floral hooter hider.  On the side of the road.  With my double negative A's.

I'm really excited.  I've always liked to run.  But it means so much more to me now.  It's just for me.   It's a break for my brain.  Hours at a time, spent on a trail.  Alone.  Running. Thinking.  I rarely hear my own voice.  Or anyone else's.

In my childhood days, running meant playing tag or sports.  In college, it was running for the keg.  But I still ran to it. Really fast.

Now running is just a part of me.  A part that I keep for myself. 

I'm stronger this time around.  I've spent six years pushing a jogging stroller.  And I still do.  Sometimes.  But not on Saturdays.  My day.  The day I do my longest run.

Pushing a stroller has made me stronger.  So has having children.  And being married for eleven years.  Being part of a family for thirty five years.  And a friend for almost as many.  I've beaten things I never thought I'd have to confront.  I've lost at times too.  But I've always had me.  And a body that could run.  I am blessed.

I've committed myself to my kids.  And my husband.  And my family.  And my friends.  I am blessed.  To have those people in my life.

But I'm stealing my blessed self away for a little bit now. And giving myself up to my running addiction.  I'm going to immerse myself in me. 

So I may not be posting as much this summer.  And early fall.  But it's only because I am running. 

For me. 

Perfect

I want to cry.  I'm standing on the side of the trail and I think I may just sit down and cry.  The cyclists and walkers will just assume that the kids are being ornery.  But the other runners will understand.  I am having a horrible run.  My body is not doing what I am willing it to do and nothing seems to be working right.  Plus, after five years,  I'm a week out from no longer being pregnant and/or nursing.  My hormones must be a wreck.  Maybe I should just cry and get it over with.  Everyone always says they feel better after a good cry.  But I'm not a crier.  I just can't do it.  Although I'm not a yeller either.  And I did yell at Grady last night.  He got me.  He won.  I had run out of patience.  I did apologize.  But it didn't make me feel any better.  It will always be there in his little mind. 

The boys fell asleep during my run this morning.  It was such a relief.  They each fussed for a brief time.  It seemed like an eternity but really it was just minor squawking.  And what would I have done without them?  They guarded me while I peed on the side of the trail.  Their cute little faces peering over their snack trays at mom's naked butt squatting over a mound of dirt.  Praying that none of the park rangers ride by....not like the last time.  Embarrassing.

Boys Asleep

When my run was over, I wanted to run one more mile.  I have to make it better.  It can't end like this.  It has to be perfect.


Perfect. 

I never made Seany a peanut butter and jelly sandwich for breakfast this morning.  I didn't play a game with Lillian today.  I didn't hold Grady long enough.  I didn't call my friend.  I put Dempsey to bed too quickly, I didn't sing him a song.  I didn't thank my parents enough for how much they love my children.

I made Sean's lunch for work today.  I helped Lillian to make a card.  I carried Grady to bed and laid with him.  I sent my friend a funny note.  I sang Dempsey three songs the next day.  I called and said I love you.

Perfect enough.  The other mothers will understand.

Running

My darling boys tantrumed for my entire five mile run today.  I wanted to leave the stroller on the side of the trail and run in the other direction.  But I knew they would find me.  I stopped twice to videotape them with my phone.  I snickered while I was recording them the first time, at mile three.  The second one is sideways because I was on the ground in hysterics.  You just can't hear me over the screams.  Grady was so mad I think I saw steam coming out his ears.  I couldn't get that close of a look though because he took off after me.  

I love to run.  I love the butterflies I get in my stomach leading up to a run.  I love being smack dab in the middle of a run, solving all of life's problems.  And I love the sprint to the finish.  I love that it helps me to be a good mom and wife.  It's a break.  I can think about everything, or not one thing.  I like to run outside, by myself, and without music.  Sometimes I get to run completely alone but mostly I run with one or two of the boys in the jogging stroller while Lil is at school.  The kids have grown up in the jogging stroller.  They know the rules. There are no options.  I will stop only so many times to dispense snacks and/or toys and after that you wait till the end.   They get a turn too, when I'm finished, to run and play.  It's my one hour of the day.  They get the other twenty three.  When I'm running with the stroller I feel even stronger.  When I do get the chance to run without it, I sometimes feel like I'm flying.


I spend much of my day running.  I run upstairs and downstairs.  I run after children and away from children.  I run to the basement to make sure no one has trampled Dempsey.  I run after our dog.  I run back and forth to the laundry room.  I run to and from the van.  I run to the bathroom.  I run to the door.   I run outside and I run back inside.  I run to answer the phone.  I run to beat the kids in a race.  I run errands.  I run late.  I run to the kitchen when I remember the toaster oven is still on.  I run Grady out of the kitchen when he's supposed to be in bed.  The last time this happened he was 'unlocking' the kitchen cabinets with my spare car key.  He ran up the stairs, turning back to tell me, 'sweet dreams mom...sweet dreams.'


I run from conversations about penises and vaginas.  Yesterday I ran in from the backyard to catch Lillian tee heeing while grabbing her crotch.  I take a peek and she has a baby doll spoon shoved in the front of her underwear.  I wash the spoon and hand it back.  Please do not put things in your vagina.  Then there was the time I was changing Grady's diaper on the floor and Demspey crawled over and grabbed his penis.  Dempsey thinks penises are hilarious.  He grabs his constantly and chuckles to himself, then gets mad when I diaper him back up.  He knows it's still in there somewhere.  Once I was changing another little boy's diaper while Grady and Lillian watched.  I asked Grady if it looked like his.  Lillian said, "No Grade, yours is more bigger than that."  While changing Grady's diaper he tells his penis goodbye and that he will see it soon.  And the last time Grady ate a hot dog Lillian told him it was a penis.

They're calling.  Gotta run.