The Mom of Mommy Running

Being a Mommy Runner is a badge of honor. It shows the world that on top of being nurturer, nanny, maid, master of budgets and grocery lists, accountant, teacher, therapist, doctor, and diplomat, I am also an athlete. I may have only gotten four hours of sleep last night between the night terrors and the infant's growth spurt, but I am still out there with the double jogger, sweating profusely, and trying to hand off the pacifier, sippy cup, crackers, fruit twists, and toys without interrupting my pace.

Really, rather than a badge, it should be more of a cape. It takes some serious super-human skill.

But sometimes the super-human skill is necessary to overcome some of the Mommy-ness of it all. The husband (the Exercise Scientist) has been on my case for a while about the importance of stretching. Ha! I would laugh, imagining how my run usually pans out with the two small humans. Without fail, if either of them falls asleep while out on the run, the sound of the front gate opening as we approach the house immediately awakens them. If for some odd reason (in extremely, extremely rare instances) they do not wake up from the gate, one of the three over protective canines flipping out at the sound of people approaching their territory will cause the little ones to stir into consciousness. This results in at least one of the following:

1. Screaming to be nursed
2. Screaming to be held
3. Screaming for "Shoes OFF! Shoes OFF!"
4. Insistence that the infant join the toddler in the sandbox in the front yard
5. Screaming for "chocolate nook" (translation: Pediasure for the wasting away toddler who refuses to eat real food)

Meanwhile, I may enter the house to an array of welcomings, including

1. The puppy having peed on the floor
2. The older dogs have knocked something off the table, making a mess of glass and cutlery
3. The puppy having chewed something up that was probably really valuable, and probably something the husband asked me to make sure was put away before leaving the puppy unattended

Wash, rinse, repeat any combination of the above. Usually if we're expected to be somewhere soon after the run, it's all of the above.

So not to ignore the lectures from the husband, but the possibility of stretching after the run has simply been nonexistent. The transition from The Run to The Rest of My Day is so miniscule that there is no allotment for cool-down or tending to the wounded ligaments and tired muscles of my overworked body.

If I were truly super-human, it wouldn't matter. Alas, here I am, in the midst of the speed-work section of my marathon prep, and I am down for the count, nursing an overworked, over-inflamed IT band. I'm walking like a wounded member of the geriatric crowd, and the glaring workouts scream at me from my training plan with no attention or reprieve. My very anal type A running personality is not coping well with all of this.

So I take comfort in, "It's better to get to race day under-trained than over-trained and injured." We'll hope that's the case.

Meanwhile, I'm going to have to figure out how to get the stretching in. Otherwise, my IT band may revolt and draw inappropriate things on me with sharpie while I sleep.