My reasons for beginning running were simple: I needed peace, quiet and alone time.
The run that began my current running journey happened two months after my youngest daughter was born. One sunny Sunday morning I laced up my shoes and headed east out of my neighborhood. The grass was still dewy from the morning sprinklers. A slight breeze brushed my face and brought with it the sweet smell of honeysuckle. The sun was warm on my shoulders and was more than welcome after months of snow and rain.
As great as all that was, what made that morning memorable was the fact that for the first time in months I found myself completely and utterly alone. Nobody was begging to be held, fed or changed. Nobody was asking for exercise tips or nutrition advice. Nobody was asking me to teach a lesson or sub a class.
I was solo.
I could choose which direction I ran, how fast and how far. I could listen to music, podcasts or nothing. I could talk to myself, sing out loud or let my mind go blank. I felt like an 18-year-old high school graduate discovering freedom for the first time.
While most new runners are looking to shed a little body weight, I was looking to shed a little emotional weight, and it worked. For a couple of years, I racked up the miles on training runs and races, and in the process uncovered a hidden athlete and confidence I didnt even know I lacked.
Fast forward a few years. Im still running but for very different reasons. I may not have diapers to change or bottles to make, but I have appointments to keep, games to attend, concerts to support and assignments to tackle.
Preteen years can be tough to navigate. The waters can be smooth one moment and then threaten to overturn the boat the next. Youth are struggling to grow up and gain independence, while Im struggling to let go and still protect their innocence. Years ago they were clamoring for my time and attention. Now, it seems, the roles are reversed. I find myself concocting reasons for us to spend more time together.
So when my daughter asked me to run the other day, I leaped at the chance. Id already run that morning and taught two tough fitness classes earlier that day. My legs felt as sturdy and strong as a newborn, but no amount of exhaustion could keep me from that run.
Running loosens the tongue as much as it loosens the legs. We say things to our running partners that we would keep to ourselves otherwise. Because our eyes are on the road rather than on each other, we feel comfortable and secure to share parts of ourselves we usually keep to ourselves. Its almost like confessions on the run.
Knowing that, I wrangled my way back into a sports bra, laced up my shoes and grabbed a water bottle. We were off.
I dont remember much about the run. It seemed we kept a pretty consistent pace. We walked a little, ran a little. Steered clear of dogs behind fences and strange, squishy objects on the sidewalk.
But what I remember most is for 20 minutes we had each others attention. For 20 minutes, we talked about school, friends and what we planned to do on a future vacation. For 20 minutes we relinquished our family titles of mom and daughter and became running partners. We didnt solve the worlds problems. Neither of us uncovered deep, dark family secrets, but we finished that run a little sweatier and a lot closer.
As a mom, I feel like I get it wrong more often than I get it right. Im constantly wondering if Im doing enough; if Im enough. I second guess a lot of my decisions and compare myself unfairly to the more Pinterest-worthy mothering styles of my peers.
But for one moment on one afternoon, I did get it right. Now, my reason to run, my peace isnt away from my children, its alongside them.
The run that began my current running journey happened two months after my youngest daughter was born. One sunny Sunday morning I laced up my shoes and headed east out of my neighborhood. The grass was still dewy from the morning sprinklers. A slight breeze brushed my face and brought with it the sweet smell of honeysuckle. The sun was warm on my shoulders and was more than welcome after months of snow and rain.
As great as all that was, what made that morning memorable was the fact that for the first time in months I found myself completely and utterly alone. Nobody was begging to be held, fed or changed. Nobody was asking for exercise tips or nutrition advice. Nobody was asking me to teach a lesson or sub a class.
I was solo.
I could choose which direction I ran, how fast and how far. I could listen to music, podcasts or nothing. I could talk to myself, sing out loud or let my mind go blank. I felt like an 18-year-old high school graduate discovering freedom for the first time.
While most new runners are looking to shed a little body weight, I was looking to shed a little emotional weight, and it worked. For a couple of years, I racked up the miles on training runs and races, and in the process uncovered a hidden athlete and confidence I didnt even know I lacked.
Fast forward a few years. Im still running but for very different reasons. I may not have diapers to change or bottles to make, but I have appointments to keep, games to attend, concerts to support and assignments to tackle.
Preteen years can be tough to navigate. The waters can be smooth one moment and then threaten to overturn the boat the next. Youth are struggling to grow up and gain independence, while Im struggling to let go and still protect their innocence. Years ago they were clamoring for my time and attention. Now, it seems, the roles are reversed. I find myself concocting reasons for us to spend more time together.
So when my daughter asked me to run the other day, I leaped at the chance. Id already run that morning and taught two tough fitness classes earlier that day. My legs felt as sturdy and strong as a newborn, but no amount of exhaustion could keep me from that run.
Running loosens the tongue as much as it loosens the legs. We say things to our running partners that we would keep to ourselves otherwise. Because our eyes are on the road rather than on each other, we feel comfortable and secure to share parts of ourselves we usually keep to ourselves. Its almost like confessions on the run.
Knowing that, I wrangled my way back into a sports bra, laced up my shoes and grabbed a water bottle. We were off.
I dont remember much about the run. It seemed we kept a pretty consistent pace. We walked a little, ran a little. Steered clear of dogs behind fences and strange, squishy objects on the sidewalk.
But what I remember most is for 20 minutes we had each others attention. For 20 minutes, we talked about school, friends and what we planned to do on a future vacation. For 20 minutes we relinquished our family titles of mom and daughter and became running partners. We didnt solve the worlds problems. Neither of us uncovered deep, dark family secrets, but we finished that run a little sweatier and a lot closer.
As a mom, I feel like I get it wrong more often than I get it right. Im constantly wondering if Im doing enough; if Im enough. I second guess a lot of my decisions and compare myself unfairly to the more Pinterest-worthy mothering styles of my peers.
But for one moment on one afternoon, I did get it right. Now, my reason to run, my peace isnt away from my children, its alongside them.
