When Saturday morning rolls around, I shed my "mom skin" like a snake for a few hours.
It begins around 5:15 a.m., when I hop in my husband's car -- the one without the booster seat -- and listen to music of my choice for a few minutes. I pull into the parking lot of a local middle school and meet my running buddies and take off for a long run.
As I've entered week 12 of my 16-week marathon training program, those long runs have become increasingly long. Last Saturday I logged 21 miles. I'll do 15 for a long run this weekend and 21 or 22 the following.
I've grown to really love distance running. Living in a sometimes undisciplined household with 5-year old Dylan, I love the ritual and defined plan it takes just to get me to the starting line. Call me crazy, but I also get jazzed knowing my body can take me such distances. I'm now entering the peak weeks for mileage, which for me means about 55 miles a week.
For some logging those distances might sound like some form of torture, but for me, it's my sacred time. While the rest of the world sleeps, I occasionally get the treat of seeing a shooting star and usually a nice sunrise.
I've been running now for almost 3 years. I didn't run until I had Dylan. But I know I'm a better mom because I run -- I'm not only healthier, but there's some kind of emotional release that comes with running. I also think I'm a better runner because I'm a mom -- I appreciate my time on the run -- that "me time" -- in a way I never understood before I had a child.
With temps in the 40s last Saturday it was a perfect day to run.
Actually, there aren't many Saturdays that aren't perfect for me to run. I often joke with those who ask me about marathon running that I either chase Dylan around all the time, or I put together a plan that happens to take me 26.2 miles in the end. It's not entirely a joke. Life as a stay-at-home mom can get monotonous as you are married to your schedule of dropping off your kids as much as your husband. Ask me something as simple as, "What's new?" and sometimes I'm hard pressed to tell you. At least now I can say I'll be running my fourth marathon in a few weeks.
The best part of this, is that my husband Tim and Dylan anticipate Saturday as much as me. They get their own time, without mom around. Their ritual is cooking up homemade Mickey Mouse pancakes. While they are dining on their morning feast, I'm at a local Starbucks getting my breakfast and caffeine, hanging out with my running friends who actually know me by my first name, not that of my child.
In the end, everyone feels better. On that note, I gotta run...