Mother Runners

I don't want this to turn into a weight loss blog because it's too much pressure.  In any case, it is part of my life now and over this past weekend these "steps" to losing weight have evolved into - gasp - running.

Let me just say, I HATE RUNNING.  If you see me running, it's a good bet that something scary is chasing me or I am going to miss my plane.  When I was in school and we had to run the mile, I somehow managed to get a note from my doctor excusing me from doing it.  I sat on the bench and watched those other suckers huff and puff around the track.  I felt it was less humiliating than coming in last.  Back in school I was a small girl, but far from physically fit.  I ate junk food and didn't exercise, and it was only when I got to my late 20's that this started to catch up to me.  Being in radio gave me a crazy schedule, a weird diet, and a larger intake of alcohol than ever before.  The drinky-poos may have finally been the thing that brought on the bloat.  Or, it could have been the fact that my drinks of choice were Sex On The Beach, Colorado Bulldogs, and Mudslides.  Not exactly "Skinny Girl" cocktails.

I hear there is a runner's high once you get past a certain point.  I have yet to glimpse that.  I can understand the sense of accomplishment when you start running further distances.  Kind of how I will feel when I can zip some of my jackets again.  SO many moms are taking up the running trend, and taking it further (and crazier) by participating in Mud Runs with obstacle courses and of course - mud.  Lots of it.  I've seen pictures from a color run, where apparently you run across puddles with color in it that splashes all over you.  I don't know if this is supposed to make running more appealing, or just give you physical evidence that you did it, but whatever works!  If it would help, I'd start one of my own, where you attach a pole with a string over your head and have Taco Bell dangling in front of your face.  But I don't think too many people would sign up for the Mexican food runs... 

Anyhoo... The reason I started running over the weekend was just to save time.  My trainer at Rejuv Medical told me she was assigning me just cardio until our next session, no weight training.  Hubby and I had to work opposite schedules quite a bit this weekend, so rather than waste time driving across town to get on a machine at the gym where I'd be doing nearly the same thing, I decided to just hit the pavement and see how far I got.

My 7-year-old daughter saw me putting on my tennis shoes, asked what I was doing, and immediately wanted to come with me.  I had been looking forward to listening to some music and having my thoughts (I hate this, I hate this, I hate this) to myself.  But she was so excited, I couldn't turn her down.  She did great, and it actually made the run sort of fun because she distracted me with her excited little girl chatter.  She asked why exercise is good for you, asked about how the leaves change color, and pointed out every squirrel that scurried by.  One run down.

The next day, my 7-year-old, my 5 1/2-year-old AND our 6-year-old neighbor girl wanted to come with me.  There is a reason you don't see serious runners have children trailing after them.  My 7-year-old decided to be Narrator of the run.  "Look at my mom running.  She needs to get exercise.  My mom is embarrassed right now.  My mom loves the color turquoise.  My mom didn't want to take the dog with because she thinks he would want to chase squirrels.  My mom still has kind of a big tummy because my brother was in there for so long."  My 5 1/2-year-old wanted to hold hands with me and although on any other given day she has more energy than I have in a week, she pooped out about a half a block into it and would only walk.  The neighbor girl stopped abruptly in front of me and bent over to look at a dead worm.  I almost plowed us both over and stopped myself from exclaiming something that sounds similar to "mother runner!"  It wasn't much of a run, but it was an adventure, and we eventually made it around the loop. 

I haven't given up.