Speedwork
Getting ready in the morning is a delicate creature. It’s become this crazy balance. Leap out of bed on (a ridiculously low single digit number ) hours of sleep, brush teeth, wash face, check that clothes are laid out. Tiptoe downstairs, praying that baby stays asleep for just a little longer. Wolf down breakfast. Standing up. Back upstairs, finish getting ready, by this time if the baby isn’t awake, she will be soon. Maybe Matt will have time to take a shower first, but maybe not. Time management is a skill that we have very quickly had to hone. Because when she awakes, it’s a scramble to get her fed (which is left up to Matt), to get him out the door once the babysitter arrives. Exercise isn’t even an option, unless you count zipping around the room and up and down stairs. Our lives seem to be stuck at 75 mph.
I can’t remember the last time I got to sit down and just eat breakfast, or just get dressed. . I no longer stand a chance of working out before school. But there are people who do all of the above, somehow. I belong to this facebook group where you can post anything from questions about your baby to rant about how your husband doesn’t understand childbirth, or how your baby can now take off their own diaper. The other day someone posted that their baby was 5 weeks old and they wanted to know when they would start working out again on a normal basis. I didn’t post, “Um, never….” But I watched the feed that afternoon as mothers from across the country posted about their exercise habits. And then there was this post. “My baby is 8.5 months old, and I just ran a marathon…” along with some encouraging phrase. WHAT??? She ran a marathon?? I think my face was probably similar to the one SL had the time I put her in bath water that was too cold- shock followed by confusion that this had occurred.
I didn’t know who to go to with this information. M. wouldn’t care that much, he runs sometimes and I think he enjoys it, but he definitely isn’t as obsessed as I am. I could think of plenty of running friends I could talk to about it, but they don’t have kids yet, so can run literally whenever they want. So I just tucked it away, along with the thousand questions I had- are you nursing? If so, how on earth did you get through your long runs? When did you go? Is your baby sleeping through the night? Are you making this whole thing up? I think the last question seems most pertinent.
When I ran the Walt Disney World Marathon in 2012, for a while I was with a group that was going at a moderate pace, and the weather was nice and we were having a good time. We turned a corner with an aid station and I slowed to a brief walk to down a small snack and some fluids. When I looked over to my left I saw a woman had run off the course into the grass on the side of the road. There she stood, nursing her baby. In the middle of a MARATHON. And I remember thinking how ridiculous that was. Who is ambitious enough to nurse and run? I will say it was a good race to be a nursing mother though, because the time cut off was something ridiculous like 6 or 8 hours or something. Not to worry, I don’t think I’m organized enough to do that. Why?
1. I’m not sure I’ll ever really run again (I feel this pull every time I leave her)
2. SL is a slow eater- now way to factor in enough time for feeding her.
3. Training would be miserable. Running 25-30 miles a week? Yea….
4. Who are these people that don’t need to sleep? Are they on drugs?
5. Check into 4. Is it working for them?
One of my old colleagues and friends used to always say, “The days are long, but the years are short. Never has that seemed more pertinent than when it comes to having the patience to wait for your time. I want desperately to be able to head out for a leisurely run on a Saturday morning and return to a cappuccino (NOT decaf, thanks so much) followed by an afternoon of reading, folding laundry, or getting ready to head to a show. That hasn’t happened ONCE since our sweet girl came into the world. On the other hand, this time truly is fleeting, and while it’s difficult for me to watch my running shoes sit at the door, it’s more difficult to think that pretty soon our baby won’t be a baby anymore, that she’ll be walking and talking and doing her own thing. That Saturday mornings will turn into a mad rush to get to dance or gymnastics or horseback riding or whatever activity she’s into.
So while it’s difficult to think about now, I know that one day I’ll get to head out on a Saturday morning without apprehension that I’ll be called back a mile in. That one day I’ll pick up a bib with my number on it, and that one day we will embrace this new normal. The normal where we celebrate achievements like Friday’s- spinning the wheel with one hand. The normal where her light is so bright, the rest of our world seems dim by comparison.
That’s why we don’t mind our crazy days so much. That’s why I’m looking forward to running again, but know that I need to forgive myself for not jumping back in so fast, for instead spending those hours with her. Plus I can totally sprint- you should see how fast I go from our basement to her crib. Consider it speedwork.
I can’t remember the last time I got to sit down and just eat breakfast, or just get dressed. . I no longer stand a chance of working out before school. But there are people who do all of the above, somehow. I belong to this facebook group where you can post anything from questions about your baby to rant about how your husband doesn’t understand childbirth, or how your baby can now take off their own diaper. The other day someone posted that their baby was 5 weeks old and they wanted to know when they would start working out again on a normal basis. I didn’t post, “Um, never….” But I watched the feed that afternoon as mothers from across the country posted about their exercise habits. And then there was this post. “My baby is 8.5 months old, and I just ran a marathon…” along with some encouraging phrase. WHAT??? She ran a marathon?? I think my face was probably similar to the one SL had the time I put her in bath water that was too cold- shock followed by confusion that this had occurred.
I didn’t know who to go to with this information. M. wouldn’t care that much, he runs sometimes and I think he enjoys it, but he definitely isn’t as obsessed as I am. I could think of plenty of running friends I could talk to about it, but they don’t have kids yet, so can run literally whenever they want. So I just tucked it away, along with the thousand questions I had- are you nursing? If so, how on earth did you get through your long runs? When did you go? Is your baby sleeping through the night? Are you making this whole thing up? I think the last question seems most pertinent.
When I ran the Walt Disney World Marathon in 2012, for a while I was with a group that was going at a moderate pace, and the weather was nice and we were having a good time. We turned a corner with an aid station and I slowed to a brief walk to down a small snack and some fluids. When I looked over to my left I saw a woman had run off the course into the grass on the side of the road. There she stood, nursing her baby. In the middle of a MARATHON. And I remember thinking how ridiculous that was. Who is ambitious enough to nurse and run? I will say it was a good race to be a nursing mother though, because the time cut off was something ridiculous like 6 or 8 hours or something. Not to worry, I don’t think I’m organized enough to do that. Why?
1. I’m not sure I’ll ever really run again (I feel this pull every time I leave her)
2. SL is a slow eater- now way to factor in enough time for feeding her.
3. Training would be miserable. Running 25-30 miles a week? Yea….
4. Who are these people that don’t need to sleep? Are they on drugs?
5. Check into 4. Is it working for them?
One of my old colleagues and friends used to always say, “The days are long, but the years are short. Never has that seemed more pertinent than when it comes to having the patience to wait for your time. I want desperately to be able to head out for a leisurely run on a Saturday morning and return to a cappuccino (NOT decaf, thanks so much) followed by an afternoon of reading, folding laundry, or getting ready to head to a show. That hasn’t happened ONCE since our sweet girl came into the world. On the other hand, this time truly is fleeting, and while it’s difficult for me to watch my running shoes sit at the door, it’s more difficult to think that pretty soon our baby won’t be a baby anymore, that she’ll be walking and talking and doing her own thing. That Saturday mornings will turn into a mad rush to get to dance or gymnastics or horseback riding or whatever activity she’s into.
So while it’s difficult to think about now, I know that one day I’ll get to head out on a Saturday morning without apprehension that I’ll be called back a mile in. That one day I’ll pick up a bib with my number on it, and that one day we will embrace this new normal. The normal where we celebrate achievements like Friday’s- spinning the wheel with one hand. The normal where her light is so bright, the rest of our world seems dim by comparison.
That’s why we don’t mind our crazy days so much. That’s why I’m looking forward to running again, but know that I need to forgive myself for not jumping back in so fast, for instead spending those hours with her. Plus I can totally sprint- you should see how fast I go from our basement to her crib. Consider it speedwork.
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