Ah….the year is finally winding down, yet, I am still running
in circles. Camp forms need to be completed, sneakers need to be replaced,
closets need expunging, duffle bags require fumigating. I’m a one woman show. I amass the camp clothes, label, wash all the
pool towels on a regular basis and I wonder sometimes, do my kids actually know
how much behind the scenes preparation it takes just so they can have fun? The
answer is a resounding NO. I work alone
with no one beside me.
I’m not looking for
sympathy or to be a martyr mommy, mind you.
I know the work is par for the course.
I do however, expect a modicum of help such as hanging up the chlorine-
scented laundry to dry so it doesn’t produce material that requires a skull and
cross bones warning. Usually the kids
comply with that one; otherwise, I’m on my own.
I live for summer. I relish the quiet, the heat, and the one dropoff
and pickup I have to make at camp. Eventually, briefly, I no longer have to run
in circles. I wait for this season, I yearn for it and yet as an adult, summer
always seems to slip through my fingertips. Summer used to feel like a long and bountiful
picnic feast, when I was a kid. Now, it feels like a drive-thru meal. As soon as I get all my summer ducks in a
row, the school packet is in my mailbox, and I already feel winter’s noose
around my neck.
This summer, my daughter made a request that initially made
my heart sink. She didn’t want anything
expensive, like a shiny new electronic gadget, or iPhone. She didn’t say, “Mom, I’ve decided my goal in
life is to become a Justin Bieber roadie and ride around the country in a van
with a mattress and a guy with really cool tattooes and his name is…. VooDoo.” Nor was she demanding, moody, or even whiny
with her request. In fact, I should revel in the fact that she likes me, she
really likes me and more importantly, she wants to include me in her aspirations.
“Mom, I really want to run a 5K. Will you do it with me?”
In my brain, “NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO, NO, NO, NO!” Double,
NOOOOO.”
“Of course, but we need to go slow.” I respond.
A big hug ensues, and I’m left wondering how I am going to pull
this one off. Now, to the avid runner
enthusiast, this may seem like a no brainer; a 5K is not so hard. However, to
someone who has endured three decades of injuries to the same knee, the thought
of running 3.1 miles all at the same time is rather daunting. In fact, it strikes panic in my heart because
due to cortisone shots, and lots of physical therapy over the years, I have
managed to get my arthritic patella to a point where I don’t feel pain on a
regular basis. I can only imagine what
running will do to reverse all my hard work.
My knee usually sounds like a bowl of rice krispies at any
given moment. If they handed out prizes
for the loudest crack from a bodily joint, I’m a blue ribbon winner. In fact, my knee predicts the weather better
than the average weatherman does. Now
there’s a career…”And over to you Rachel, does your knee tells us if we need an
umbrella today?” “Well Ryan, I’ve got a lot of aching this morning, and a few
more pops and cracks than usual which usually signifies overhead
thunderstorms.”
Nevertheless, moments like these are rare, and like summer,
they are over much too soon. We have been training 2-3 days a week following a
slow and steady running plan that intersperses running and walking. I do a lot of prep for this mind you. I take
Motrin, put a lot of icy hot on my knee and cover it with a brace, and then ice
it when I get home. It aches a bit, and
I keep reminding my daughter that while I would like to reach the end goal with
her, she may have to get to the promised- land without me. I know it’s not what she wants, and while
running is not my favorite form of exercise, it’s not what I want either.
So, I’m back literally and figuratively running in circles,
except the difference now is, I’m not alone because I’ve got my baby beside me.
That is wonderful and I can relate. My daughter wanted to do the color run in DC at the end of summer and that meant one of us was going to have to go with her. (Letting my 15 yr. old loose in a race downtown DC with thousands of other runners was not going to fly) However, hubs put the kabash because he didn't want paint color all over the car afterward. LOL!! He is picky! Anyway, kudos to you and good luck to you both!
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