Not sure if its the camaraderie of ‘Trotting with Tots,’ the feeling of accomplishment afterward or the time spent outside with my mini-me, but I am amazed with how much I love running lately. It was never something I did as a child, teen or even really into my young adult years (according to myself, I am in my mid-adult years now). If I ran, I was sprinting—none of this ‘distance’ stuff, and most certainly not 3+ times a week. I find that now, however, its something I can share with Gage. I am his legs, his personal tour guide, and his ticket to see the WORLD… oh alright, Austin. I’d like to think its something he and I both enjoy–or at least he leads me to believe he does because he knows he gets to play on the playground when Mom is done with her 3-4 miles.
Sidenote & bragging moment: I know I am not alone in feeling this love of running as ‘Trotting with Tots’ was mentioned in several Christmas cards that I received. Nothing makes me more content than reading about how joining our group is 1 of the top 5 highlights of someone’s year.
I am going into my 33rd week of pregnancy and running is becoming a much more difficult undertaking. Not only is it a bit harder to catch my breath after a large hill, but I get more fatigued pushing the stroller and most noticeably, the added weight of the baby makes for some rickety quads. I had never previously given much thought to what the extra 20lbs would do for my legs. But boy do they burn–even after a shorter jaunt on plain, flat land. In any case, I find that the loss of running is putting me into a bit of a funk. I want to run, but I know enough to be healthy and safe and listen to my body and my baby girl.
The real reason I write this isn’t because Im sad I can’t run, I still can… Im just slowing down. I am writing this because just this weekend some girlfriends of mine participated in a 10K trail run, and it was one of the hardest things to watch. I am so proud of what they’re accomplished and yet I can’t stand not being able to feel that same sense of pride regarding myself. The possibility of tripping on whats known as a skull rock (and yes, they are called that because if you hit one with your skull, the outcome is no bueno) or a root is all too scary. I am competition and I am stubborn, but I am not stupid–although sometimes I wish I could play dumb. I want to trail run. I want to do a half marathon trail run (which someone finished waaay too quickly today). I want to go off the beaten trail and blaze my own way. But for now I will play it safe, prepare my double jogger and take one for my new team—my son and my daughter. Damn competitive spirit. I think I need to go for a run. 😉
My Best Life 