Running checklist, pre-baby:
√ Running shoes
√ iPod
√ Gum
Running checklist, post-baby:
√ Running shoes
√ iPod
√ Gum
√ Baby jogger that takes up the whole sidewalk and forces everyone to step aside into the road.
√ Phone in case of emergency
√ Emergency diaper (For me or Baby? Who knows?)
√ Blanket in case Baby gets cold
√ Another blanket to cushion Baby’s unstable head from flopping around.
√ Sun shield for Baby’s delicate eyes
? Motivation
√ Toy to entertain Baby so she doesn’t fall asleep and reduce the 2 hours of naptime I can rely on to get stuff done.
√ iPod to drown out Baby’s complaining (and my tears).
√ Baby sunscreen
√ Baby hat because she won’t wear her sunglasses.
√ A pair of Depend® if it’s within three months of pushing Baby out of my uterus.
√ The reminder that I haven’t done enough kegel exercises to not need Depend®.
√ The concern that Baby is not having fun and I should be reading her excerpts from Tolstoy instead of taking her down this route of shoddy Michigan roads, which is probably going to cause brain damage.
√ Dog, so that she (dog, not baby) doesn’t feel neglected like how Lady’s parents in Lady and the Tramp made Lady feel when they had their baby.
√ Dog leash, so that she (dog) doesn’t run away to live with a family who doesn’t have a baby and, maybe, lets her destroy as many remotes as she wants.
√ Some mantra about how I need to be proud that I’m getting myself out for a run, even though, by now, I only have time to work in 3 miles max and already have to go to the bathroom.
√ Thoughts of what I could have done differently in high school.
√ Rocky theme song
And, after all that, I’ll forget my keys.
What I’ve gathered from the last 10ish months I’ve been raising a baby, who’s no longer trapped in my tummy fighting a cake I consumed earlier for space, is that I—and all moms (whether they’ve given birth in the last year, are managing a toddler/teenager/psychopath/grown adult, or multiple children)—do not have the luxury of standard marathon training. We do our best, we adapt, and we sacrifice a training run to tend to our child (or duck away to a brewery because today was bloody hard).
As I’ve said before, I don’t know if I’ll make the whole 26.2 miles of the Grand Rapids Marathon. But having that promise of a t-shirt and a banana at the finish line makes me say, “Yeah, let me pack up for the equivalent of climbing Mount Everest (except a marathon is 20.8 more miles—take that, Jordan Romero) plus a baby and get a jog in.
Three more months, folks. Hope to see you there.
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