We started running about a month agowith the “Couch to 5k” plan. We haven’t been perfect about it, but we’ve kept with it and now we’re on our fourth week of the plan. (And, to go along with my general directive to myself to not agonize about perfecting the details in favor of seeing the bigger picture, I am trying not to torment myself about having missed a few days.) I don’t love to run, but I don’t hate it. I do love the way that I feel when I have been running.
Most of the time, we go running with the kids. They mostly ride in the stroller (occasionally, B rides his bike, but it’s been too wet and cold lately). I’m really glad to bring them with us — I think it’s nice anytime we get to all go out and do something together, and I think we’re setting a good example. Besides, pushing the stroller is extra good exercise (although I let Dan do it most of the time).
I remember, though, when I used to find it hard to get motivated to go for a run . . . in the time before children. It seemed like such a chore to put on my running clothes, get ready and get out the door. Ugh. I distinctly remember that feeling of inertia that had to be overcome to get started every time . . . and I remember succumbing to that feeling many times.
What was I complaining about? Getting out the door without changing diapers, finding 4 pairs of shoes, finding gloves, hats, filling water bottles for everyone, getting socks on the kids, determining which toys can or can’t come on the run, packing a bag of essentials and then corralling everyone out the door, into the elevator and downstairs — how did I ever find that a challenge? And now, when we’re running, there’s all the stops and breaks for refilling water, retrieving gloves, putting hats on or taking them off.
I’m not complaining — not at all. Running with the kids is more fun, too — I love hearing Benjamin’s observations and seeing Liam’s face as he takes in the world. It’s just one of those moments where I think back to live before children and I wonder what I found so difficult.