When my oldest child was a baby, my husband was in graduate school, so I learned very quickly that if I wanted to run, the baby was going to come with me in the stroller. We had some great times and covered a lot of ground in that jogger. Sometimes I would get strange looks from people, but for the most part, people were very encouraging of me and my stroller. I even braved a few races, politely starting in the back and then weaving through the crowd as it thinned (hey, pushing a stroller is no reason not to try to win!). I knew even my toddler was catching the spirit of racing in one particular spring 5k. I was about a mile into the uphill race, not only pushing a 2 year old in the stroller, but hauling my 7 month pregnant belly along. I thought I was moving at a pretty good clip, all things considered, but it wasn't good enough for the man in the chariot. "Faster Mom," he said, "they are getting away from you!" If I hadn't been gasping for air I would have assured him that I was doing all I could to catch up.
Fortunately by the time baby sister showed up I could leave them both at home with daddy and enjoy running solo again. Only a small part of me misses having that constant little running partner. Now my 10 year old and his siblings stand at the finish and yell "faster", but will love me even if I can't win. They don't know the difference between faster and slower anyway, but they know they have a mom who runs and loves it.
Today, I salute all moms who run when they can, often dragging children along, because we know it makes us better moms, better wives, better humans. Especially those loading up multiple kids into the stroller or getting up at outrageous hours to run before the household wakes, you rock. Keep up the good work. And let us hope that when the tables have turned, that the children we once pushed around will take us out for a spin in our wheelchairs every now and then.
No comments:
Post a Comment