I am still a runner!

I may not be running, but I’m still a runner.

I was recently sitting at one of my boys’ practices and I overheard two other moms talking about marathon training – one of my favorite topics! Tempo runs, negative splits, long run schedules, tapering, workout timing, when to suck down those nasty energy gels, picking the right shoes, crunching through the frost-covered leaves outside in the early winter while everyone else is asleep, physically and mentally preparing for a big race….so much fun! I listened and nodded along tried not to butt in, but after a couple of minutes one of them noticed my radiant grin and indulged me, asking “Which race are you training for?”

Yeah, whoops. I’m not training for a race. In fact, I haven’t run an organized distance race in at least four years. Moreover….I don’t really run much of anywhere right now. I mean I’m frantically moving everywhere all the time, but actually running for the love of it? No. Recently my workouts consist of short bouts of movement with clients, getting to the gym and frantically completing a few circuits before the childcare place calls telling me my 8 month old is inconsolable and I need to pick him up, and baby wearing my little inconsolable bundle of joy as I hike around my neighborhood between zoom calls. Not a lot of *actual* running happening.

My smile must have faded into confusion as I got a little choked up, because the other mom raised her eyebrows in concern.

“Well, I guess I’m not running right now,” I said. “Not really. I just….used to run a lot and I loved training for big races. It’s been a few years, but….” I trailed off, helplessly gestured at my three boys, the practice, my life in general, and felt a little ashamed. I shrugged. “I guess I still identify as a runner.”

I felt pretty stupid.

Then this mom did the best thing ever. She leaned in, locked eyes earnestly and said, “Then you are a runner. Of course you still are.”

She leaned in, locked eyes earnestly and said, “Then you are a runner. Of course you still are.”

Boom, random mama at the park – you got me. Cue waterworks, gratitude, inclusion and feeling seen, return of goofy smiles, and a blooming confirmation in my heart that yes, damnit, I AM still a runner!

Why do we do that to ourselves – tell ourselves that we’re not enough, that our best years are behind us, that we’ve somehow peaked and are riding the decline? I’ll be honest, when I started training in college, I would roll my eyes whenever I overheard a young mom say “I don’t really exercise, other than chasing my kids around.” What an excuse, I thought! These moms just didn’t value exercise – you make time for what you value, right?

I used to check out for hours, taking my dogs out to the far reaches of the county in search of new running trails. We’d paw through rocks, rain, and mud, get filthy and exhausted, and have a blast. We’d come home and spend the rest of the days snuggling on the couch watching movies. Some of the best memories I have from the last 20 years were made running with my pack.

Then, in the most humbling experience of all time, I became a parent myself.

Motherhood is like constantly trying to control all these little shreds of your heart that somehow exist entirely outside your body, that are sometimes sweet and loving but often pretty damn unreasonable and demanding.

Now things are a little different. My remaining dog is almost sixteen years old and isn’t running anywhere. I care for him and nudge him outside while one little succubus is leaching nutrients out of my body, another one is glaring at me refusing to put his socks on, and the third is waiting in the car to get to practice, yelling that he doesn’t want to be late again. Motherhood is like constantly trying to control all these little shreds of your heart that somehow exist entirely outside your body, that are sometimes sweet and loving but often pretty damn unreasonable and demanding. It’s trying to stay patient and present without the luxury of checking out. It’s trying to juggle your own needs (let alone wants or desires) with the demands of everyone else. It’s trying to carve out time for what I need to preserve my mind, body, and soul – in my case, meditative exercise – without inconveniencing the rest of my family or coming back to the house finding that a tornado must have ripped through it in the past hour.

So, I’ve got to modify. In the present season of my life, that means I’m not disappearing in the morning hours for a nice long run followed by a hot cup of coffee in an ice bath (God, that sounds amazing). I may not be running, but I’m still a runner. I still cherish those moments of sweat and solitude and heavy breathing with my dogs by side as we explore the trails. The sear on my lungs after a cold early morning workout, the pleasant ache in my legs after running that monster hill in my neighborhood. I hold those things in my memory, in my heart, knowing that I will re-discover them when the time is right. That for now, the important thing is that I keep moving my body, that I set an example of loving presence and self care for my kids, and that I let myself be swept up in others’ excitement of the runs they are experiencing now. And letting my elderly dog soak up naps in the afternoon sun and snuggle up to me by the fire as I read The Pout Pout Fish aloud for the seventy sixth time.

So, thank you, O random mom at practice. You got me, you encouraged me, and you clicked everything into place for me. I AM a runner, damnit. And I’m a good mom. Coming soon to a trail near you!