After our first child was born, I decided I wanted to work toward completing a triathlon. Childbirth – ridiculous race involving three sports – seems like a reasonable jump to me. Two more children and several years later, still no tri under my belt. Something in February (my last birthday…cough, cough) fueled me to get a plan and set a goal. An old friend of mine is an avid runner, marathoner, and is in all around kick-butt shape. She was running a half-marathon in the area, so I signed up and started getting to business.
I loved the routine. You can’t miss workouts and expect to survive anything with the word marathon in it. I loved the excuse to clean up our eating, avoid eating out, and I loved how now we had a weekly family day. We were outside, together, and being active. I think Man kind of liked it too, but more on that later. It was a new norm, and I liked it. Time consuming…oh, my, yes. Scheduling nightmare…sometimes. Support…for sure. New gadgets, food stuff, and time spent picking out more workout gear…don’t even want to count the dollars. Worth it? Totally.
I didn’t magically find running that first mile any easier (I think that will always stink). I did look forward to the upcoming challenge. I looked forward to the time outside covering new ground. I looked forward to seeing my support bike and cart come by. I felt more me.
Then in early April, we woke up in the dark and drove an hour to a shopping center so I could test my work. 13.1 miles with a few more hills than my legs had seen before. I stuck to my very detailed plan. I followed the advice of my veteran friend. I crossed the line tired, happy, legs killing me, and slightly delusional. Before the race was over, I was convinced I would do better next time. Before we got home, I had worked out how I could alter my training plan. Before the weekend was over, I was picking out a marathon. After 13.1, why not 26.2?
Looking over the time since I started full-time mom as my full-time job: Some days, I feel like this mom thing is a fast 5K, other days, I feel like I’m halfway through the Ironman and they are about to DNF me. Either way, this mom tries.