I started running seven years ago in Chicago for one reason and one reason alone.
It was really cold.
Which essentially translates into, my husband is in med school, I never see him, I'm all by myself, freezing, digging my car out of snow, it is a little sad, a little lonely, a little isolating and I really, really need a hobby and I need to get into shape.
So I took myself to the gym and started running on the treadmill. I immediately thought it was for the birds or more specifically for really, really crazy people and I almost quit. I was this close.
But I stuck with it. Because it was cold, remember.
And I went from running arduous 2-minute stretches in capri pajama bottoms to buying running gear, subscribing to Runner's World and running for miles on end throughout the northern suburbs of Chicago.
I did a 5k. A 10k. A half-marathon. And I was addicted and ready to tackle 26.2 miles.
But I became pregnant with band-aid head halfway through training and never did the race.
And two weeks after band-aid head made her appearance, I started training for the next marathon. But a few weeks later became pregnant with ornery, pretzel-crumb face.
Another marathon missed.
And now, 2 years later. I'm tackling the full thing. 26.2 miles. And it's tomorrow. And I've spent today trying to either not vomit or have a heart attack. I'm not really sure which one I'm trying to avoid most at this point. Just today I was thinking how much easier it was to train before I had the girls. I had all the time to train, to recover, to recoup. And it was my main focus.
But I'm thankful that my first marathon didn't happen before the girls. God had another plan. This time around the training has been challenging, time-consuming, guilt-ridden and a sacrifice. And there's no time to recoup. You walk in the house from your long runs and you're mom. Not a skip of a beat.
And God-willing, during the race tomorrow, when I feel challenged, I'll think of these two. And how much I love them. And how much of a sacrifice it's been for all of us.
And how I hope that I make them proud.
Really, really proud.
See you on the other side, band-head face and ornery, pretzel-crumb face. --Love, your soon to be, Marathon Mommy.