Part 3: Why I Run

As I was running my long run last week, I was delighted to see a herd of deer sprint across the road in front of me.  No matter how many times I've seen deer, they never cease to be a source of interest to me.  Several deer, maybe 10, shot across the road ahead of me.  To my surprise, a doe and her fawn stopped and remained stock-still  -- never crossing the road.  A mother held her baby back, knowing it was not time to join the group.

Now, crying and running don't mix well for me.  It messes with my breathing, my pace gets all off, and I look like a complete fool.  But I cried some because I understood that doe, and I knew this post was coming.  She could not cross with the herd because she felt it was unsafe for her child.  She made a split second decision and opted not to cross the intersection because her fawn was in jeopardy.  I was approaching (with lightning speed, I must tell you ;)), and although she could probably make it, her fawn was in question.  There was no real option; she stayed back.

I'm a 41-year-old woman training for my first marathon.  I'll be 42 when I (attempt to) run it.  Could I have crossed the road earlier? Not by much.  My season had not yet come. But I wouldn't trade it for all the Darjeeling in India.  I know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that the right season is now.  My fawn (2) only now cross the road safely.

I run for my children because they mean the proverbial, yet profound, everything.  Since they've been born it's as simple as this:  I run if I can and I don't if I can't.  If they have a volleyball game, I don't run.  If their soccer practice is canceled (woo-hoo!), I do. I asked them recently if they minded if I trained for a marathon (no small time-sucking undertaking) and they said, "No.  We'd be really proud of you."  To have their blessing warms my heart and gives me peace in training.  Sometimes I even get the ultimate compliment, "It's cool."  That's teenage language for, "You're the most wonderful mother a child could possibly have!"  Or so I'd love to believe.

Can I tell you the mistakes in parenting I've made?  Oh, how I wish I could start over. Major, significant mistakes.  But what I want my daughter to see is a not-so-young woman setting a goal, fighting for it, and reaching it.  I don't want her to accomplish any less.  Ever.  I want my son to see that women are not 'just' housewives.  They're people with minds, lives, goals, aspirations.

And they can wait. Wait until their fawn are ready because they love them.  Because life is not about me.  But "me" is a person too.

Me thinks that the moment my legs begin to move, my thoughts begin to flow.  ~Henry David Thoreau