With a heavy heart and a discouraged soul, I logged a few miles less than my training plan called for this morning. I walked away from a daughter saying, “I don’t want Mommy to run in the basement” despite not being more than two meters from her at any point during the 14 hours the day before. While I pushed “go” on the treadmill a Gigantosaurus (who is really enormous 🦖) roared his displeasure with me taking a few miles to myself.
Truthfully it’s been a hard week. Perhaps the most frustrating part of my life currently is that despite my Type A tendencies and all my planning and organizing it’s accepting that I actually have little control of my own life. It’s something I fight and tell myself isn’t true, but weeks like this remind me that I am under the control of two tiny people.
Their early wake ups and the winter weather causing my husband to leave even earlier than usual in the morning are making working out in the A.M. impossible. I live a life where if it doesn’t happen in the tiny window of planned time, then it won’t happen because there is no later or move it to here or adjusting.
When the husband also surprised me on my midweek long run night with an unplanned late meeting and daycare calls work to pick up a sick child early, along with all the early, early wake ups (why do they have to wake up between 5:00 and 5:15???) and leave times, I’m not so gently reminded I have no control over these things.
I said I wouldn’t let these things weigh on me or get me down, but I did and I have been. It’s hard to want something, but literally feel like you can’t make it happen. Some days are so challenging, but I know I’m a better mom for making a bit of time for me. I know I have to let things go in this season of life, but some days are just hard. The important thing is I keep moving forward.
Unlike some, getting to the starting line of any marathon for me is filled with missed runs and training plans that didn’t go as planned. I do the best I can with the supports and resources I have. As I reflect and stretch myself to find some learning from this hard week, I acknowledge that perhaps the beauty in the hard days is appreciating the good days more.
The marathon journey isn’t in the 26.2 miles ran on race day. It’s the hours of training, obstacles and focus that come from committing to training and accomplishing that training as best as we can. My training is never as planned, perfect or easy. I’d hate for anyone to think it’s all easy for me. It’s not. Ever.
But it’s worth it.
So I keep going. I shake off a hard week. It doesn’t have to be perfect or as planned. I move forward knowing this because it IS worth it. With fresh eyes I see my kids as the amazing little people they are. Sometimes they just need their mom, and that won’t always be the way it is.