wait, what?

Now, I am a grown woman. Not old old, but old enough to have kids in school, dishes in the sink and only 1 good pair of shoes. To me, this is middle age. So why is it i have the memory span of an 80 year old? It used to be funny, ha ha i forgot the doctor's name, oops.. almost forgot the diaper bag, you get the picture. Why is it now more like... what are the kids names again? We only have 2... are you sure? The simple question of their ages can brings me to a dead pan stare for a good 10 seconds too long.

i swore i would never turn into my mother. i do sit ups to avoid the belly bulge (still not working) i won't match my shoes to my purse (unless it is a really cute purse) and lipstick will not cross my lips unless it has a flavor involved. To me, THESE things signify my mother. Who knew her lack of memory would hit me out of nowhere? i do the sudoku, i try crosswords, this is not supposed to be happening yet, and selectively too. I can tell you where my last run was, what route, how long it took and what clothes i was wearing but, ask me the day a field trip form is due and i channel my mother. Does this mean something?... Do i love running more than my kids? They ask me who i love best, maybe they weren't giving me enough options, throw in some alone running time and you may have a hands down winner...

That is where i am not my mother. In my perfect 37 year old mind she never yelled, always loved and smiled at us, never tried to, literally, run away from home. She baked cookies and patiently played bored games, she read us books and laughed at all of our jokes. She had the patience of a saint. Maybe i should embrace my increasing lack of memory in honor of my mom and not beat myself up next time i call the boys the wrong names (yes, even the dog's name). Hmmm, it is a thought, or maybe i should keep up the sudoku and run with lipstick on tomorrow, yup... i'll try that first.

grab your shoes...school is in!

Running has taught me to speed up many things in life, a tired friend, a tempo run, heck even healing an injury. But, it has not taught me the art of speeding my kids out the door when school starts again! Oh, the glorious back to school smell of August, glue sticks and crayons? check. My well worn Nike's? Ready to go. All i need is a few willing participants to get to school on time so that i can go for that long awaited run.

i have a dream, a recurring dream, the kids wake up happy, they crawl into my bed to say good morning, they get themselves dressed and politely ask for breakfast (sometimes they make me a latte). They brush their teeth and comb their hair, they get their own backpacks and open the garage door. Our first day of school has begun and it is bliss. They wave and smile and bring apples to their teachers. They tell me to have a good run and they skip into school. Then I wake up.

Reality? Today is the day they decide to sleep in! The little farmers haven't slept past 6 am for 2 months and the one day I need them up, they are all sweet and dreamy in bed. I make my first mistake of the day and let them stay "just 5 more minutes" this 5 minutes will cost me 2 happy kids, 1 packed snack and a mouth full of clean teeth. By the time we get out the door, take the pictures, load up the car, go to the bathroom 1 last time and remember where the hell it is i am going... my run has gotten off on the wrong foot. The kids are upset, my shoes aren't tied and this is just not how i pictured the first day of school.

What I noticed while wiping the tears from the boys faces (that i am sure i caused), is that in front of the camera it was all about the kids in their new clothes and nervous smiles but behind the camera, it was about my long forgotten nike's, running shorts and ipod raring to go. Turn the camera around to all the moms waving goodbye and you will see the same thing. Maybe not running, but flip flops signaling a pedicure, glasses still on because the bed will still be warm, or even a hot cup of coffee in a ceramic mug knowing she can finish it in peace. The first day of school is not reserved for kids.

Maybe my running lesson at the beginning of school should be how to slow things down. I realize one day, they will drive themselves to school, there will be no happy "good mornings" (not even in my dreams) and instead of worrying about the new clothes, i should make sure we slowly enjoy this process. Them getting back into learning at school and me remembering how to learn on the run. Really, what's 5 more minutes in the grand scheme of things? I'm sure my neglected summer thighs won't mind me taking it down a notch on today, this first day of school.

i am not alone

it has officially happened. I am not unique. I was sitting on the beach trying not to yell at my youngest for the 100th time that day and it happened. At first it wasn't clear, just faint voices in the background, then there was no mistaking it. I heard my own conversation, not my voice, other mothers, all over the beach..." Hunter, If you don't get back here right now.... I don't know who you think you are Mister... Fine Molly, if you want to get a sunburn...." I couldn't believe it, all the arguements that I thought were just mine alone actually belong to other people out there. and guess what? their arguements didn't end any better than mine did! Hunter ran off, Mister thought he was the center of the universe and Molly got the sunburn she was asking for. Their lives were just as miserable as mine for that brief minute. And you know what? It felt great. I looked at my boys who were not fighting at that EXACT moment and I thought.. "damn, i'm good, they aren't so bad, it could be worse, I could have those 2 daughters fighting down the way" I resolved to stop yelling and enjoy their youthful energy, that is until a sand castle got kicked over and I distinctly heard the word "butthead" uttered. Then, I saw the other mothers breathe a sigh of relief as I started in on yet another verse of, "If I have to tell you one more time..."

a runners birthday

I have a new plan. For my next birthday I want to go running with 2 of my friends. Not a regular run, a 3 day triangulated run, with wine involved. I want to find 3 towns about 10 miles apart, in a triangle pattern. i want to park at one, run with a little backpack to another. I want to check into a hotel where we will shower and meander the town, having dinner and drinking wine while our running clothes are drying in the sink. I want to stay up late laughing and go to sleep full. The next day we can have breakfast, put on our now clean running clothes and make our way to the next town. Sound familiar yet? We would shower and eat and laugh and drink and go to sleep happy and full again. Upon waking on the 3rd day we would be a little bit slower, a little sad that the adventure had ended. Our running clothes would be a little less fresh and our jokes a little more stale. As we made our way back to our car and eventually back to our mothering lives, we would be full again. Full of pride and excitement and stories to tell. Is this too much to ask for a birthday? Now, all I need is the 2 friends... :)

running partner

Let me start by saying, I hate my dog. On a day to day basis, more like minute to minute, I hate my dog. She is the WORST dog in the world. She barks, she doesn't listen, she begs all day for food. I know it's not her fault, we flunked out of puppy school. She had some hard shoes to fill since I used to have the BEST dog in the world. I know, there is pressure. And pressure never does anyone any good. I learned the best way to relieve the pressure was to take her running. And that is what we have done, we have logged hundreds of miles, up hills, over streams, through the woods. Thousands of ticks later and she is still not tired. On the pavement, town to town and back again, foxtails and poison oak, she is still not tired. Horses to look at, Cow piles to eat and turkeys to chase, nope, not tired yet. But what I just realized today is, I am tired. And when I am tired I don't feel the pressure and I am not stressed and she no longer seems to be the worst dog in the world. Holy Crap, it wasn't her at all, it was me.... all along, it was me. Sorry puppy, here's a treat. Wanna go for a run?